


Everything is Awesome

by AssistedRealityInterface



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU Fic, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Canon Divergence - No Hydra Takeover, Canonical Child Abuse, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Multi, Past Child Abuse, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-03
Updated: 2014-11-17
Packaged: 2018-02-24 00:56:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 33,300
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2562185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AssistedRealityInterface/pseuds/AssistedRealityInterface
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Garrett and Victoria Hand gay adopt a small, scared, vulnerable fifteen year old Grant Ward out of prison, whereupon the entirety of Nick's team sets about parenting Ward after the abuse he suffered at the hands of his family. No one is perfect, but everything is awesome, and that's what counts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Tori and John Gay Adopt Ward

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I'm finally putting it up on AO3: this fic can also be read on tumblr, but for convenience's sake, I'm posting it in larger parts until it's all caught up to where it is on tumblr.   
> I really feel like we need this now more than ever, honestly.  
> Also, I'm listing it as a gen work because ships aren't really important to it until much much later. This is first and foremost Ward getting what he deserves: happiness.

Victoria frowns as the car pulls to a stop in front of the gates. “Ugh. Men’s prison. I hate men’s prison.”

“Speak for yourself,” John says as he rolls down the window and flashes his badge. The guard doesn’t bother questioning him; just waves him forward as he pulls into the parking lot. John gets out and checks his gun.

“You know our cover,” he says. She nods, checking her hair. She’d styled it specifically so the flaming red streaks barely showed through her hairclip.

“Do you think kiddo’s going to believe mommy and daddy hired lawyers?” she says. John snorts.

“To press charges, probably,” he says. “I was reading up on them before we came. They’re fuckin’ awful, Vic. We’re doing the kiddo a favor.”

“And here I thought you just wanted to fuck him,” she says with a smile.

“We’re here for more than that,” John says. “The rest of the prison is up for grabs though.”

“You’re a fucking slut, Garrett,” she says as they pass through the door. The officer at the desk greets them with a thin little smile.

“May I see some ID?” she says. They both flash their fake licenses and false grins. The woman looks them over with a huff.

“Mhm. You’re going to have to go through a security check through that entrance before you visit,” she says.

“Oh, we’re lawyers,” Victoria says. “We don’t need to put you through all that trouble.”

The woman looks thoroughly unconvinced. Victoria sighs and slaps down a fifty. “We need to see Grant Ward.”

“Oh,” the guard says. “Him. I’ll let them know you’re coming.”

She waves them through. John and Victoria sigh in relief as they make their way down the hallway.

“You wore your Louboutins?” John says with a sniff as they make their way to the visiting room. Victoria snorts.

“Didn’t you?” she says as a guard opens the door for them. He shakes his head.

“I’m smart. I left mine in the car,” he says as he takes a seat, Victoria sitting down next to him as the door opens again and they lead the boy out.

John fights back the immediate urge to cringe and fuss. The boy—Grant Ward, John internally corrects himself—holds his head high, high enough so they can see the bruise blooming hot and ugly against his cheek, almost visibly throbbing with burst capillaries along his cheekbone. It matches the sickly color of his fat split lip and the mottled trail going down his shoulder that has gone yellow at the edges, like old lace in a musky parlor.

“Fucking Christ,” Victoria says, raising her eyebrows in awe and giving him a low whistle as she looks him over.

“You’re his lawyer, act like it,” John snaps.

He surveys them up and down with tired eyes before he bares his teeth in a half-smile, blood beading at his lip. “You guys aren’t real lawyers.”

Victoria pauses for a second before she sighs and throws her hands up.

“Well,” she says. “Good job. Great fuckin’ cover, dickbag.”

“Eat my shit, Tori,” he mutters, folding his hands over his chest.

The two of them manage to take Ward aback with that, just slightly. He rubs at his eye and winces.

“Why are you here?” he asks. John sighs.

“You stole a car and drove a thousand miles to burn your own house down,” he says. “Why?”

Ward’s shoulders stiffen and his face goes blank. John refuses to betray his surprise when he meets the boy’s eyes and there is nothing reflected back in them, but it’s one of the most unsettling things John has ever seen.

John pauses and glances at Victoria.

“Kid,” Victoria says, leaning forward. “How’d you get a bruise like that?”

“There’s a kid in my cell block,” Ward says. “Thirteen. He’s practically a baby. Started a fire at his school. Stupid mistake. Some kid was trying to pick on him. So I intervened.”

Victoria and John take a look at one another for a long second. Victoria raises an eyebrow. John sighs.

“Those other bruises aren’t fresh, though,” John says. Ward stiffens up again.

“It’s nothing,” he says. “Leave it alone.”

He gives them orders like he’s in a panic. John can hear his handcuffs rattling under the table as he shakes in them. He sighs.

“Ah, hell. Look, kiddo,” he says. “You knew your brother was inside the house. Didn’t you?”

Ward bares his teeth at him. There are tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

“Your parents are pressing charges,” Victoria cuts in, nudging John in the side. “Attempted murder and arson. And they want to try you as an adult.”

She watches his whole face crumble, his façade withering away like the faded edges of his bruises as he opens his mouth to breathe and his Adam’s apple bobs desperately.

“No one’s going to protect Dana,” he says, his voice a pained whimper. “No one’s going to protect Dana but me. Please, you have to tell them to call it off!”

“I don’t think we can,” Victoria says. “You’re right. We’re not actually lawyers. But we can help.”

“If you can’t protect my brother, go away,” Ward says. “I don’t want you here. It doesn’t matter.”

“How the fuck do you think going to prison for the rest of your life is going to help matters?” John snaps. He wants to take it back immediately; Ward is visibly shaking with the effort it takes not to cry after being shouted at. He bites his lip and sighs.

“Kiddo,” he says. “You won’t help anyone dragging yourself through this system. You’ll rot here for another year or so and then get thrown in a men’s correctional. You were willing to go AWOL and hijack a car to come protect this kid. You’ve done enough for him. Letting us help you before your family takes this out of your hands…that’s the most you can hope for.”

“You have to protect him,” Ward says. “You have to protect him, you have to protect Rose, no one’s going to look after them—“

“We can’t,” Victoria says. “I’m sorry. But we can protect you. And if we get you out of here, your family can’t hurt you.”

“I don’t care about me,” Ward says, his voice cracking. He sounds so young. John is abruptly reminded he’s fifteen as he tries to rub at his eyes and bumps his bruise with the handcuffs.

“Well,” he says, reaching up to do it for him. “Someone else does.”

Ward watches him warily. John continues. “Look. S.H.I.E.L.D. found out about what you did, and why. It takes guts to try to protect your family. And it takes a certain kind of desperation to do it the way you did. I won’t lie—we’re looking for that kind of desperate. But we’re going to give you the satisfaction you want, Ward. The strength you want to protect people. That’s why we’re here. If you come with us, no one you love will ever be hurt again.”

“But what about Rose and Dana?” Ward says. John sighs.

“Look, if it makes you sleep better at night, we’ll send a couple of scouts out to keep an eye on them and make sure nothing’s gone wrong. Honestly, kiddo? Without you at home, things might improve some. Less aggression from your brother, probably.”

Ward nods. “Okay.”

“Okay what?” John says. Ward looks up at him and nods.

“I’ll join,” he says. “That’s what you’re asking, isn’t it? For me to help you?”

“You’re not the one helping here,” John says. “We’re helping you, kid. Someone’s offering you a hand out of the darkness. Take it.”

Ward looks down at John’s outstretched hands and lifts up his handcuffs without a word. John actually laughs.

“Let me get that for you,” he says, taking a small device out of his pocket. It starts to vibrate and glow as he jerks it up between the chain on the cuffs.

Ward stands up just as three agents, dressed in black, enter the room.

“Agent Hand, Agent Garrett,” the leader says. “We’re clearing the facility. Is Grant Ward accompanying you?”

“Sure is,” he says. “It’s John by the way, kiddo. This is Tori.”

“Are we making him wear that jumpsuit out in public?” she says as she pulls out her gun, the two of them keeping Ward in between them as they march out the door and head for the car. “Don’t we want to take care of this kid? Should I call my designer?”

“Call your designer, we’ve got time,” John says. Ward can hear shouting and swearing inside, and he flinches. John puts a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, kiddo. Relax. They’re not coming for you. In the car.”

He lets John herd him gently into the backseat, mindful of the bruises. “Why is there a pair of high heels back here?”

“Funny story,” John says. “I’ll tell you later.”

“You should be thankful,” Victoria replies as she gets in and starts the car. “He’ll talk your goddamn ear off if you don’t watch it.”

“Fuck off,” John says. “Call your designers, you bourgeois nag.”

Ward just sits quietly in the back, twirling one of the handcuffs around his wrist. John sighs and reaches back to take his hand. Ward looks up at him, and there’s a light in his eyes for the first time since they started talking.

“There you go,” John soothes him. “Don’t worry. We’re gonna get you home just fine. After a pit stop for clothes. And a snack, too. You look starved.”

Ward nods, silent. John rubs his hair comfortingly as Victoria peels out of the parking lot, Ward lurching forward. John steadies him and pushes him back into his seat gently.

“Buckle up, kiddo!” he shouts as Victoria turns on the radio. Ward does as he’s told and tries not to question the Madonna that makes the car vibrate as Victoria shouts over the phone in French to a man named Louis.

…

Ward wakes up again and looks down at his clothes, blinking. They feel warm and clean and are significantly less orange than he remembered.

“Jesus, you slept for four hours straight,” Victoria says as she opens the door for him. “I had to practically prop you up for your fitting. Don’t worry, they’re mailing the rest of the clothes to us, we should have them by Monday.”

Ward whines softly and rubs at his eyes. John nudges her out of the way and helps him out of the car.

“Give him a break, Tori, he just woke up,” he says. “C’mon, up and at ‘em. We came home in time for dinner.”

Ward looks around and blinks. “This isn’t a home.”

“This is one of many homes,” John says. “Every S.H.I.E.L.D. base is gonna start to feel like home, kiddo.”

“Oh,” Ward says. “Okay. Sorry. I got confused.”

“God, he looks like a puppy,” Victoria says. “A puppy in need of a haircut. Don’t worry, I know a stylist. We’ll fix…whatever this is.”

“Be nice,” John says as he sizes Ward up. “Puppy, though. He kind of is.”

Ward rubs at his eyes again and sneezes. Victoria and John share a look.

“Yep, c’mon,” Victoria says. “Inside. Phil’s cooking.”

“You can tell?” John says.

“I know what Melinda’s smells like,” she says. “More oil. And usually some kind of duck. That is definitely sausage.”

Ward stands in the doorway and John turns around, beckoning him forward. “Kiddo, come on. Food’s this way. S’time to eat.”

“I don’t know if I can,” Ward blurts out, then looks around in a panic like he can breathe the words back in. John and Victoria are both staring at him, and he can feel it just beneath his skin.

“Well,” John says after a long pause. “You’re going to. Come on.”

“I’m scared,” Ward mumbles to his feet as quietly as he can. John just nods and leads him into the rec room, sitting him down on a couch.

“You got him?” Nick says from the table, setting another plate down with a clink. John nods.

“Wasn’t that hard,” he says with a shrug. “Once we told him we’d keep his siblings safe he was chomping at the bit to come help us. Right, kiddo?”

Ward nods mutely and hugs a throw pillow to his chest, wheezing quietly in pain. John frowns and looks him up and down. “Medbay tomorrow.”

Ward doesn’t argue.

“We should do some intros,” John says. “Kiddo, this is Director Fury. He’s the one who thought you had guts.”

Ward nods, meeting his eyes and straightening up. “Sir.”

“Grant,” Nick says. “Come help me set the table. Phil’s almost done.”

He gestures to the man chopping tomatoes at the counter. “This is my partner, Phil Coulson.”

Phil waves with his free hand before tossing the tomatoes in olive oil and sighing in pleasure when they hiss. “There we go. That’ll taste fantastic. Hi, Grant.”

Ward tries not to think of the food as he looks around the room.

“That’s Felix Blake, he’s our PR and diplomacy agent,” Nick says. “Which automatically makes him more useful than the rest of you fuckwits.”

Victoria flips him off. Nick sighs. “And that’s Jasper Sitwell. He works as our outside liason, but really, Jasper and Phil share the talent of being _supremely_ good at knowing the rules cover to cover. Which helps when you’re dealing with civilians.”

Ward nods. “Hi.”

Both Jasper and Felix look him up and down before exchanging frowns. Ward pulls away.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re fine,” Jasper explains. “You just look hungry. Nick, don’t make him set the table—“

“It’s okay! I don’t mind helping,” Ward protests. “I can do it.”

“That’s not the point,” Phil pipes up while he stirs the tomatoes. “Nick, let him sit, he looks exhausted.”

“I’m not—I can’t eat, I’m not—“

“Yes you can,” Phil says. “Just a bit. Please. You look like you haven’t eaten in days.”

“I haven’t,” Ward says, his voice cracking.

Phil glances at John. John sighs.

The last person left in the room stands up and sits him down, sitting down next to him.

“You shouldn’t eat too much, then,” she advises. “Let your stomach get back on its feet.”

Ward nods. “Thank you.”

“Melinda May,” she says. “Nice to meet you, Grant.”

Ward beams. “Hi. I’m glad to meet you too. I mean, it’s nice. I mean—yeah. Thank you so much. Hi.”

“Down, boy,” John says with a snort. Ward shudders. Melinda gives him a look.

“Stop it, he’s being polite,” she snaps. “Just because you don’t know how to say hello without putting your cock in someone’s mouth doesn’t mean he was raised in a barn.”

Ward relaxes slightly. John grumbles and takes the seat on the other side of Ward. Ward tenses up for a split second, realizing he can’t get away now.

“Something wrong, kiddo?” John says, his voice quiet. Ward pauses, licks his lips, and shakes his head.

“Nosir,” he mumbles. “No, I’m…okay.”

“Not with that haircut,” Victoria says.

“Leave him alone, Tori,” Melinda says, her voice quiet and firm. Victoria huffs and backs down as Phil brings in the plates of food.

“Melinda said smaller portions, and that’s fair, but we’re going to start building you up,” Phil says. “You’re much too skinny. It’s not healthy. You’ll need a proper diet for SpecOps.”

“Okay,” Ward says, because it’s easier to agree. “Thank you, sir.”

“Phil is fine,” he says, sitting down next to Nick. Nick presses a kiss to his cheek.

“You’re dadding,” he says. Phil bristles.

“He’s practically a baby!” he snaps. “Eat, go on, all of you. Ward, do you want anything other than water?”

“Water’s fine,” Ward says. “And I’m not a baby. I’m fifteen.”

Phil frowns and purses his lips. “Oh, hell. Kiddo, eat. Don’t worry about anything else, just put something in your stomach.”

Ward wants to say no so badly, but everyone’s watching him, so he has to eat. He puts some of the tomatoes in his mouth, picking around the mozzarella. Cheese is fat. Tomatoes at least have nutrients. Pasta is carbs but it’s energy. He can have some pasta.

People are talking all around him as he finishes, putting away plates and chatting. He doesn’t quite process it until John puts his hand on his shoulder and he starts so violently he smacks his glass and knocks the water over.

The whole room pauses. Ward’s stomach is tight with panic.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m really, really sorry. I’ll clean it. Please don’t be mad. Please.”

“It’s just water, I’ve got it,” John promises, mopping it up with his free hand. “Come on, kiddo. Let’s get you settled. We’re gonna watch some television and do some paperwork. You go sit on the couch.”

Ward doesn’t move. John cleans the table and helps him up, sitting him down on the couch.

Ward falls asleep there, slumped over and holding tight to a throw pillow. The rest of the team falls asleep around him, too reluctant to let him sleep alone or wake him.

…

 

John opens the door and tries not to sigh out loud as he watches Ward cringe and tense, pulling his last punch and looking up.

“Sir,” he says. “Hi.”

“Hey, kiddo,” John says. “Stop calling me sir, it’s making me chafe.”

“Sorry,” Ward mumbles. “Force of habit.”

“Did you call your dad sir?” John teases. Ward doesn’t respond.

John checks the time on his watch and sighs. “You’ve been here for an hour, kiddo. Training exercises are twenty to thirty minutes at your age.”

“I can handle it,” Ward says, running a hand through his hair. “I’m tough, I swear. I can do this.”

“I’m not saying you can’t,” John says gently. “I’m saying you skipped class today to come work the bag. You don’t need to do that. You’re only fifteen. You need to be taking real classes.”

“I’m learning how to protect people,” Ward says. “Isn’t that why I’m here?”

“Kiddo,” John says with a sigh. “C’mon. I don’t want to start having to lock you out of the gym.”

Ward tenses up.

“Then I won’t eat,” he says. “I won’t. You can’t make me. I won’t eat if I can’t exercise. I won’t. I won’t eat at all, I mean it.”

John hedges, biting the inside of his cheek. “Kiddo. Please. Do you not like your tutors?”

“They’re fine,” he says. “They don’t really know how to talk to me, but I don’t care. I can work on my own. I’m not going to bring Trip or Sharon down.”

“You’re not bringing anybody down,” John promises. “Ward. Please. Don’t skip class. If you want to work after the gym closes, I’ll let you in. I can work around the codes.”

“I can’t stay up too late,” Ward says. “Makes you lazy. Makes you gross.”

“Okay,” John says. “We’ll work on a new schedule for you now, okay? Let’s sit down and do that. We’ll figure this out, kiddo.”

“I’m not done with my routine,” Ward says. John exhales. Patience. He’s seen Ward cry too many times when he pushes him too far.

“Okay,” he says. “I’m not leaving until you’re done, though. Just to make sure you finish up.”

Ward grunts in frustration but doesn’t protest, throwing his fist against the punching bag. John waits patiently on the workbench, taking out his files and scribbling his signature on mounds of paperwork.

Ward finally steps away from the punching bag and lowers his hands, undoing the bandages after he gives himself a few minutes to breathe.

John looks up at him. “You done?”

“Mmhm,” Ward grunts. “It’s over.”

“Good,” John says. “Dinner first. Then schedule.”

“I don’t want dinner,” Ward says. “I hate dinner. Everything has fat and carbs in it and I can’t eat those.”

“Phil’s been cutting back on the sausage and pork, kiddo. You’re eating the bare minimum as it is,” John says. “You’ve gotta eat more. You’re burning eight hundred calories a day and putting maybe five hundred in if I catch you skipping lunch.”

“There’s no need to waste food on me,” Ward protests. “The other cadets need it more. They’re actually doing work. Protecting people. Like you said _I_ would.”

John sighs. “You’re not a waste, kiddo. Nothing about you is a waste. You’re damn well deserving of food. And god, Grant, you’re only fifteen. No one’s sending you out into a fucking warzone. We’re not monsters. You’re a kid. I know you haven’t gotten that chance in a long time, but you are. I promise.”

Ward swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “So howcome you told Trip he could go with you on field next week and not me?”

John exhales through his teeth. “Because I need someone to keep an eye on the rest of the team while I’m away. It’s going to be me, Mel, and Nick, and Tori and Phil fight hard, but with Fee and Jasper out on diplomacy and consultant jobs…that’s not enough to keep us safe.”

Ward glares at him. “You’re lying to me. You got by just fine with the two of them before.”

“Grant,” John says, finally using his name with a weary sigh. “Trip is still a kid. He has to prove himself. We both know you’re not a kid. Not really. I wish to god you were. But I want to give you some god damn solace, so no. I’m not taking you into the field. Not until you’re ready. Because you’ve proven you can survive and endure. I want you to do more than that.”

Ward looks at him with wide, hateful eyes, big and baleful. He says nothing.

“I wish you’d let me rot in prison,” he finally spits at John before he bolts from the room.

John shouts his name until Victoria finds him in the gym, still yelling for Ward to come back. She looks him up and down and sighs.

“I can’t watch him die,” John says. Victoria sighs and closes her eyes.

“Don’t be so melodramatic, he’ll be fine,” she says. “He needs the space to breathe. It’s only been a few months, John. He’s still scared.”

“I can’t…fuck,” John mumbles, running a hand through his hair. “Should I take him with me or what, Vic?”

“Do you want him taking a bullet for you?” Victoria says. “Because you know he will. He’s learned how to endure a ton of damage, but not how to avoid it. And these people aren’t going to be angry older brothers.”

John feels like he’s been punched in the gut. He closes his eyes. “No. No, I don’t. I didn’t save him so he could die for me.”

Victoria nods. “Right. Then there’s your answer. You need to teach him how to be quick, John. How to hide and avoid and flinch away. He knows how to stand there and take damage, but not how to keep from ending up in those kind of situations in the first place. You know what he needs now, so teach him it.”

“I don’t—I don’t want to yet,” John replies. “He’s still a kid. I don’t care if he doesn’t feel like one. He’s still a kid. And—and, fuck, Tori, I’m not going to make him feel more justified in going out into the field and getting goddamn shot at—“

“Is he a kid, or do you just want to be a father?” Victoria says, brows raised.

“Same god damn thing,” John snaps.

The two of them are silent for awhile. Victoria sighs.

“Okay,” she says. “Fine. But you’re only making him feel worse.”

“Then we have to fix that,” John says. “He’s not a gun, Vic.”

“He doesn’t know any better,” Victoria replies.

She turns and leaves. He follows without having to be told.

“We need to sit down and have dinner,” Victoria says. “We’ll find him. He needs some space. And we’ll talk about this later.”

John sighs and opens the door to the rec room. Ward is already at the table talking to Melinda. He doesn’t look at John when he comes in.

Ward eats every bite of food that night, and even has half of a second helping. Phil is practically glowing. John says nothing. Ward meets his eyes as he pushes his plate away.

“I’m done,” he says. “Thank you, Phil.”

“I’m so glad you’re eating,” Phil says, beaming. “We’ll have a big dinner when everyone gets back, won’t we?”

Ward levels his gaze at John, never blinking.

“I guess we will,” he agrees. “Sounds great, Phil. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

“Kiddo,” John cuts in, his voice quiet. “Stay right here.”

Ward regards him for a minute, fists clenched.

“This isn’t field, sir,” he says. “You’re not giving me orders.”

He gets up and leaves, closing the door with a quiet click. John swears and slams his fist on the table.

“Let him be, John!” Phil admonishes as he heads for the door. “He’s dealt with enough tonight, you don’t need to make it worse on him!”

“I know he has,” John snaps. “I’m going to make sure he doesn’t make it worse on himself.”

Phil sighs and starts to gather the plates. “What on earth is with him?”

“Oh, you don’t get it,” Victoria says. “You know what, I’m not surprised. You didn’t go to an all girl’s school.”

“Get what?” John demands. “Out with it, Vic, I’m not getting any fuckin’ younger—“

“He’s bulimic, idiot,” Victoria snaps.

There’s a long pause around the table.

“You don’t know that,” John says weakly. Victoria throws her hands up.

“Read the fucking signs, John,” she snaps. “There’s no way he’s not. He’s probably in the fucking bathroom right now deciding he can’t take it anymore with his finger down his throat—“

John’s out the door before she can say anything else. Victoria turns around to see everyone else staring at her. She shakes her head.

“Don’t look at me like I’m the bad guy,” she retorts. “I’m just being honest. The kid needs therapy and a nutritionist.”

“I’ll put in calls,” Nick says. “He can start while John’s gone. It’ll be good if he doesn’t hover.”

Victoria sighs. “Jesus. Poor kiddo. He doesn’t need that shit.”

She takes a seat and accepts a cup of coffee from Melinda. “It’ll be fine. We’ll be fine.”

It rings hollow, but the words are enough of a comfort at the moment.

“It’s going to be okay,” Melinda says. “Don’t worry.”

“Oh, I’m not worried, he’ll be fine,” Victoria says. “But I don’t know about John.”

…

John storms into Ward’s room and yanks the bathroom door handle off its socket, forcing it open and bursting into the bathroom. He hefts Ward up unceremoniously as Ward screams in protest, still retching as John puts him on the bed and goes back in the bathroom. Ward’s mouth stings and he spits out the dregs onto the floor as John takes a towel and soaks it with hot water.

“Wash your face,” he says, pressing the cloth against his cheek. “Hold on.”

“Don’t touch me,” Ward says, and John would have listened if it was made out of anger and not self-loathing and panic. “John, stop it—“

John goes back into the bathroom and flushes the toilet, closing the lid and taking another towel, mopping up the remains of puke before Ward can protest.

“Kiddo,” John says. “Grant. Jesus. I’m sorry. I should’ve seen the signs, and that’s all on me. We’re going to go to see a doctor in the morning.”

“I’m not sick,” Ward protests. “I’m trying to stay _healthy.”_

“Kiddo,” John says. “No. Sorry. Grant, look. You’re not sick, but you do need some help. I don’t…I don’t think you’re going to accept it from me, though. Don’t know why, but if going with Phil helps you, then…fuck. I just want you to be safe.”

Ward says nothing. John rubs his back slowly and the sickness in his stomach fades. John hugs him as tight as he possibly can.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes. “We should’ve nipped this in the bud easier. I should’ve been a better protector. And I wasn’t, and I’m sorry. But we can fix this. Promise.”

Ward nods. It’s easier and safer.

John rubs his back and hefts him up into his arms, hugging him tight.

“Grant,” he says. “Look, I just…”

“What?” Ward says. John shrugs.

“You could use a hug, kiddo,” he says.

Ward nods after a moment’s pause and lays his head on John’s shoulder. John holds him until his arms fall asleep and Ward along with them.

John lifts him up as gently as he can manage and lays him down, settling him in bed and pulling the covers up around him, tucking him in with an intense, firm air about him before he presses a kiss to his forehead.

“Get some shut eye, kiddo,” he says, his voice quiet and gentle. Ward doesn’t hear him, but he turns towards the sound of his voice.

John sighs and leaves the room, closing the door behind him.

“Fuck,” he mutters, making his way to his own room and pouring himself a shot. It wasn’t sleeping pills, but it’d have to do.

…

Trip sits down next to Ward and Ward manages not to flinch. Small miracles.

“Hey,” Trip says. “You haven’t been studying with us the past few days. Something wrong, Grant?”

Ward shrugs. He doesn’t respond for a few minutes. The idea of someone having noticed he was gone had never occurred to him. He swallows and shakes his head.

“No,” he says. “No, nothing’s wrong. I’m just, uh…I’m in meetings with people. While John’s gone.”

Which was the truth. To an extent. Trip nods.

“No, it’s cool. Just kind of worried,” he says. “Tell you the truth, though? Kinda nice to be the smartest guy for once.”

“Huh?” Ward gapes, which he’s sure disproves Trip’s point, but he’s still grinning.

“You’re really good at what you do,” Trip says. “Like, you realize that, right? How smart you are? Because you’re pretty damn smart. And people notice that, Grant. You’re good at what you do, and you weren’t even raised in a place like this.”

“I’m sorry,” Ward says, his chest getting tight. This was an argument now and he needed to leave. This place was dangerous.

“You don’t have to be,” Trip says. “Damn, Grant. I’m trying to make you feel better. Sit.”

Ward swallows. Can’t leave. All right. He’d be fine. He’d be safe. No need to worry.

“You just haven’t really looked like yourself lately,” he explains. “I was kind of worried. Well, a lot worried, ‘cause you’re my friend. And I was…well, I mean, hey. It’s just you, me, and Sharon sometimes. Gotta stick together.”

Ward nods and hugs himself tight. “Right. We have to stick together.”

“You sure you’re okay?” Trip says. “It’s okay if you’re not, it’s an honest question.”

“I don’t know,” Ward replies as honestly as he can. “I’m…seeing people about my diet and stuff. I’m not used to…this. I didn’t eat well at home. So…I guess I’m okay. But this is all new. And I don’t…I…”

He rubs his eyes and pushes the tears back. “Stupid. Sorry. You don’t have to deal with this, you’re just a kid.”

“Not ‘just,’” Trip reminds him. “I’m thirteen, man. Just as much of a teenager as you are.”

Ward actually raises his eyebrows. Trip gives him a disgruntled look. “I am!”

“Are not,” Ward replies. “You’re still younger, so this isn’t your problem. I can take care of this. John will be back soon and then I can talk. You don’t need to handle this.”

“Nobody has to do _anything_ for other people!” Trip protests. “But sometimes they want to!”

Ward pauses. He sighs, finally, and shakes his head.

“I don’t know,” he says. “Sorry. I don’t know how you can help. So don’t worry about it, okay?”

He gets up and leaves. “I’ll see you in class soon, promise.”

Trip watches him go with a long sigh, rubbing his temples. Later. He’d try again later. Maybe if he caught him after dinner.

Ward went back to his room and curled up on his bed, closing his eyes and hugging his pillow close. He missed John. He hadn’t ever been gone on a field mission so long. Trip had come home but John had stayed. It wasn’t fair at all.

Ward presses his face into the pillow and thinks of smothering himself. It would never work. His body would never let him.

Ward runs his hand down his body and pinches and twists at the skin he finds. He hates his body. It isn’t muscled enough. He does the routines like John says and it’s not enough. He’s still skinny and sick. Parts of him are rotting in places and he feels like he’s going to die.

Ward hugs himself tight and wishes it was enough to smother him, to cut off his air and mash his lungs. He knows it’s not, he knows this isn’t helping, this is what John made him go to a therapist for, but he wants to die, die, _die_ —

“Grant!”

Trip’s voice makes him look up. He clutches his pillow closer.

“Hey, Grant, can I come in? It’s just me,” he promises. “Please?”

Ward frowns and clutches his pillow. “Why?”

“Just wanna hang,” he says. “And talk. Nothing fancy.”

Ward doesn’t want him to come in, but Trip is Director Carter’s grandson. If he doesn’t like him then Ward will have to leave. He doesn’t know where he’ll go after that. Jail, probably. Someplace bad.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay.”

Trip opens the door and Ward sits up so fast he bangs his head against the headboard. He shakes off the pain, a huge grin on his face.

“First rule of spying, get good at lying,” Trip recites—some nonsense from their tutors, Ward couldn’t care less at the moment.

He gets off the bed and stands at parade rest, trying to hide the visible excitement radiating off his body, making him vibrate.

“ _John,”_ he says, trying to keep his voice calm. “Hi.”

“You look happy to see me,” John teases. “Nothing, huh? Parade rest is all I get?”

Ward hedges for a second, rocking forward slightly on his feet before he flings his arms around John and makes him stagger back, throwing an arm around Ward’s waist and pulling him close to balance their bodies.

“Jesus, kiddo,” John grunts. “Hi, welcome home to you too.”

Ward nods into his shoulder. “Hi.”

“Trip says you weren’t feeling well this morning,” John explains. “So I decided we were gonna go out for a drive. All three of us.”

“What about Sharon?” Ward asks.

“Sharon’s at the shooting range with Vic,” John says. “She’s having fun, don’t worry about her. C’mon, we’re taking one of Vic’s cars while she’s not looking.”

“Awesome,” Trip says, bounding after John as Ward sighs and follows him, trailing behind the two of them as John takes out a set of keys and unlocks the car.

“Do you wanna sit in the front, Ward?” Trip asks. “John has some stuff he wants to tell you about the trip.”

“I’ll bet he does,” Ward jokes, and the gut-deep relief that fills him when all John does is smile makes him smile back. “Okay. If you don’t mind, Trip?”

“Nah, man, I’m shorter than you anyway,” he says, getting in the back and stretching out. “Safety first.”

Ward gets in next to John and looks up at his superior officer with wide, adoring eyes. “Welcome home, John.”

“Good to be back, kiddo,” he says. “Where do you guys wanna go?”

“Where is there to go?” Trip says. “We’re like fifty miles from anywhere good.”

“Well, then we’ll drive fifty miles,” John says. “Come on. There’s nothing else on your schedule for the day, boys, so we’re going on a field trip.”

“Awesome,” Trip says. “Ward? You feeling okay?”

“Huh? I’m fine,” he says. “Buckle up. You have to be careful.”

“Okay, okay,” Trip says, leaning back and doing as he’s asked. “John, what did you want to tell Ward?”

“Nothing special,” John says. “Just why I came back late.”

Ward looks over at him, surprise plain on his face. John starts the car and the three of them leave the base in a squeal of tires.

“Got caught up in a diplomatic error or two, kiddo,” he says. “Nothing special, but the local squads got a little huffy about S.H.I.E.L.D. showing up to investigate reports of an 0-8-4. Happens sometimes when we leave the country.”

Ward nods. “You’re okay?”

“Sure I’m okay,” John says. “Mexico was great. Besides, it’s not like I was getting shot at, kiddo. Just lectured.”

Ward nods. “Right. Yeah. You weren’t in danger.”

“No I wasn’t,” John promises. “Nothing serious, kiddo. Just getting shouted at some, and we nipped it in the bud. How about you? You hold the fort down okay while I was gone?”

Ward nods. “The three of us went to classes. And I didn’t skip or anything.”

“Good, okay,” John says. “Tori show you how to handle the mounted guns like I told her to?”

“Only for a bit, because she was worried I’d break my arm,” Ward mutters. “Stupid. I’m not weak. I’ve been working out like you said—“

“Hey, kiddo,” John cuts in. “We talked about this. Don’t worry. You’re doing slow burn exercises to build up your muscles so you don’t damage anything. You’re still fifteen, kiddo. You’re not supposed to be ripped yet. No one wants you to be. It’s going to hurt you in the long run, okay?”

“But—but I’m weak _now,”_ Ward protests.

“It’s not true,” Trip pipes up from the back seat. “He bench pressed me and Sharon, and we’re like, 300 pounds between us!”

John raises his eyebrows. Trip grins. “It was a joke. But he did it, he really did, and none of this is his fault, and he’s doing just fine, so you don’t have to think he’s weak!”

“I don’t,” John says with a sigh. “Jesus. Teenage boys. Kid, I promise you, if you build up that tone now it won’t last. Just start with a foundation. You _are_ getting stronger, I promise. Even Melinda noticed.”

That changes his tune; he lifts his head and blinks. “Melinda noticed?”

“Melinda came to me to tell me how much you were improving,” John says. “She wants to start teaching you Tai Chi, actually. Says you could do with some flexibility.”

“That’s amazing,” Ward murmurs. “Melinda wants me to do it. Wow.”

His face is pink as he nods and settles in without a word. John rubs his shoulder.

“I know what it means for you to see muscle on your body, kiddo,” he promises. “But it’s gonna be okay. You’re going to be just fine. And when you’re legal you’ll look great, and that’s what matters.”

Ward makes a face. John laughs. “Don’t worry, kiddo. Just keep doing what I tell you, okay? I promise, I’m giving you the same exercises Phil and I did. And we turned out okay, right?”

“I’m not gonna say no,” Ward says, giving him a look. John grins.

“You could, but yeah,” he says. “See? It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

Ward nods and checks his watch. “Hold on, I have to eat. Schedule.”

“Okay,” John says, watching Ward take a protein bar out of his pocket and tear into it. “Did you work this out with the nutritionist, or…”

“It helps to have a schedule,” Ward mumbles through the flaxseed and peanut butter. “Keeps me on track.”

“Okay,” John agrees. “Whatever helps you feel better, kiddo.”

Ward nods and finishes the bar, curling his knees against his chest and closing his eyes, turning towards the window and laying his head against it. John sighs and slows down to take off his jacket and give it to him.

“At least put that between the window and your head, you’re gonna end up with a concussion,” John scolds him gently. Ward nods and closes his eyes again.

Trip and John watch, waiting, until Ward’s breath genuinely slows and his shoulders slump. John sighs in relief.

For awhile, they drive in silence. John motions to turn on the radio and Trip shakes his head, looking at Ward. John nods and moves his fingers from the dial.

“Has he been purging, Trip?” John asks. Trip shakes his head.

“Uh-uh,” he says. “Sharon and I made sure to hang out with him after meals or get somebody on your team to do it. He really is doing better, I promise.”

“Ah, kiddo,” John sighs. “Good. That’s good. Thanks for looking out for him.”

“You don’t need to thank me,” Trip protests. “He’s my friend. I like doing this. I just gotta be quiet about it, because he wouldn’t let me do it otherwise.”

“Yeah, he’s a little overprotective, this one,” John remarks. “He can’t help it. You’re younger than him, and that automatically makes you a target in his eyes.”

“A target? Who’s firing at us?” Trip asks. John shrugs.

“He doesn’t know, but the gun is always there, as far as he’s concerned,” he says. “He grew up in a bad way, Trip. Not like you. Just keep it in mind.”

“I do,” he promises. “He was good though, John. He kept it together. I think you do a whole lotta good for him.”

“God, I hope,” John says, exhaling through his teeth. “Fuckin’ shit. He’s just a kid. And so are you. So don’t let him fuss over you too much, okay? He doesn’t need to be anyone’s caretaker anymore.”

“Got it,” Trip promises. “Where are we going, John?”

“One of those tourist trap piers,” he says. “Ward’s never been to a place like that. He mentioned it last time we talked about it. Can you believe it?”

“A bit,” Trip replies. “He did grow up in the middle of Massachusetts, John.”

“Well, fuck it,” John says, making a turn off the freeway. “He’s going now. And we’ll get dinner after when he needs to eat. Right on schedule.”

Trip nods. “Sir? I’ve got a question. Agent to agent.”

“What is it then, Agent Trip?” John says, winding through the backroads of the surrounding suburb.

“How come you took me and not him?” Trip says. “Ward’s improved a lot in four months. I mean…don’t get me wrong. I’m glad I went with you. But—he could’ve gone too. Do you think he’s not cut out for the work or something?”

John sighs and shakes his head.

“I just don’t want the kid in danger,” he says. “He takes hits without ever considering the idea that he could dodge. And yeah, it worries me, a lot. He’s not going to be able to endure forever. And I don’t want to be responsible for his death.”

He gives Ward a look and huffs. “God, kiddo. What are we going to do with you?”

Ward stirs in his sleep, his eyelashes leaving shadows on his sharp cheekbones as the light shifts to cover him. John sighs and looks aside.

“He’s getting better,” Trip promises. “It’s because of you, too. He’d say the same thing, I know it.”

“I bet he would,” John says. “Still. Gotta try harder.”

Seagulls are starting to flock on the sidewalks they drive past, and the salt air is coming in through the window. Ward wrinkles his nose in his sleep, turning away from the smell. John rubs his shoulder as he pulls into a parking spot and takes a few quarters out of his pocket to fill the meter.

Trip leans over in his seat and nudges Ward awake. “Hey, Grant. C’mon, we’re here!”

“Mmm,” Ward mumbles quiet agreement. “I’m up, I’m up. Okay.”

Trip helps him out of the car and Ward shakes off his exhaustion, still clinging tight to John’s jacket. He hums quietly and puts it on without thinking. The leather is soft and buttery and bends to his every movement as Ward yawns and presses his face into the shoulder, inhaling the cologne that has seeped into the fabric of the jacket and become a scent as inherent to the makeup of the jacket as the leather itself.

John opens his mouth to say something about it and closes it again. The jacket hangs on Ward at a few awkward angles, but he looks comfortable, and more important, happy.

John just lets him have the jacket with a shake of his head as the three of them climb the steps and hit the weathered wood of the pier. Ward looks out at the ocean, wide-eyed and bewildered, licking his lips as he takes it all in.

“It stings my mouth,” he remarks, putting his fingers against his lips. John nods.

“Sea salt, kiddo,” he says. “It’s good for your lungs.”

Ward hums, satisfied with the explanation as he rubs at his temple and inhales as deeply as he can. It makes him stumble just a little as he grumbles and clings to John’s jacket like an anchor.

He makes his way down the pier and listens to it creak, placing his foot hesitantly against one of the planks. Trip jumps on the plank and gives him a grin. “Hey, no worries. See? It’s safe.”

“Oh, no, I know,” he defends himself. “It’s just…creaky.”

He looks up. “What is there to do here?”

“Eh, rides,” John says. “What month it is? May, right? Close enough. Come on. Let’s go on a couple of roller coasters.”

“Awesome,” Trip enthuses. Ward doesn’t say he’s never ridden one. He’ll check it off as endurance training. That’s fair.

…

Ward lets Trip and John split cotton candy and ice cream with quiet demurred refusals. John doesn’t push the issue.

“You wanna wander on the beach some before we go get dinner, kiddo?” John suggests. “It’s almost time on your schedule, right?”

“Mmm,” Ward says. “Can I really go on the beach?”

“Sure, go ahead,” John says. “Have fun. Take your shoes off, though, ‘cause if they get wet, you’re gonna regret it.”

“Mmhm!” Ward agrees, unlacing his sneakers and taking them off, making his way over to edge of the boardwalk and jumping off, hitting the sand with a soft thump. He kicks it around a little before he looks at the shoreline and races towards it.

Trip and John settle in on a bench overlooking the beach as Ward runs along the beach, timing himself and panting with exertion. It was a shame the beach was a three hour drive or he’d have to come more often. He shakes the thought from his head and skirts the edge of the tides.

“Hey, John,” Trip says with a frown, “you see that, right? That little blob under the boardwalk?”

“Huh? What the hell,” John says, leaning over on the bench. “What is that?”

He answers his own question before the two of them need to say it out loud.

Ward is so caught up in his training that he doesn’t notice, even for a single second, the fat puppy waddling up to him on the sand, its tiny paws making little imprints in the big sand piles. Ward turns around to start doing his laps again and lifts his foot up, about to step on the dog.

“Kiddo! Kiddo, watch out for the dog—“

Ward leaps over the puppy and grabs it, tucking and rolling and holding the puppy close to his chest, hitting the sand with a quiet thump. John and Trip get up and race across the beach as Ward sits with the puppy in his lap.

“Hi,” he says to the itty-bitty chocolate lab. He’s so tiny. He’s gentle and soft and has scrapes on his paws. Ward frowns as he picks up his paws and examines them. The puppy yips in quiet protest and Ward puts his paw down. “Sorry, baby.”

He looks like Dana, Ward thinks, even though Dana is his baby brother he loves more than anything, who is most certainly not a dog. But the eyes are close. Dana looked sad when Ward touched his hurts too.

Ward buries his face into the puppy’s flank as John finally catches up to him.

“Kiddo, goddamn, that was impressive,” he says. “How’s the pup?”

“I got the puppy,” Ward says. “He’s hurt though. He needs someone to look after him.”

“We’ll find somebody,” John promises. “Come on, Ward, that’s a stray, you don’t know if he’s dangerous.”

“No,” Ward protests. “He’s not. He’s a good boy. He’s hurt and he’s scared but he’s a good boy. He doesn’t have to bite just because he’s hurt.”

The puppy licks Ward’s arm and noses him gently. His nose is hot and cracked. Ward frowns and murmurs softly down at the puppy.

John meets his gaze and knows for certain he’s fucked. The puppy looking up at him with matching pleading eyes is just lube on the dildo.

“Okay, fine, Jesus, let’s go,” he says. “He’s _your_ puppy though. You’re taking care of him and feeding him and cleaning up after him and explaining this all to Nick.”

Ward pauses. John ruffles his hair. “But if he yells at you, I’ll handle it.”

Ward’s face lights up like a supernova and John relaxes. “There we go. Come on, let’s get him to a vet.”

…

Ward sits quietly in the waiting room with Trip and checks his watch.

“I’m off schedule,” he says. Trip tenses up and puts a hand on his shoulder.

“Grant, hey,” he says. “We can take the car and go find you someplace now. Okay?”

“No, no! It’s…not that big a deal, actually. I don’t feel so bothered,” Ward says. “Puppy needs me. He needs me to protect him and I’m gonna. ‘Cause we’re like…buddies, you know?”

John leads the dog out on a leash as he confers with the vet about payment and medication. The puppy starts to wag his tail so hard he tips over at the sight of Ward. He beams.

“Yeah,” he says, going to take the leash from John and lifting his puppy into his arms. “Buddy.”

…

John wipes some cat hair off his sweater and swears. “Jesus. Vic, was it really necessary to start some kind of animal arms race?”

“That _creature_ has ruined a five hundred dollar pair of shoes because _your boy_ couldn’t tell the difference between a pair of your cheap boots and mine!” Victoria snaps. “Angelica, Elizabeth, and Marina are just like charms to ward off evil spirits. But much prettier.”

The three white Persian cats Victoria has adopted as a buffer against Buddy all purr in unison on her desk. John sighs.

“Ward’s happier than he’s ever been,” John protests. “Look, the kid’s actually coming out of his shell some. That dog thinks he’s the fucking moon and stars, and you could at least be a little bit happy, considering _you’re_ part of this…weird polyamorous family he’s got going on.”

“Ugh,” she mutters. “I suppose. But I still don’t like dogs.”

“Well, the boy does,” John says. “And if you do anything to hurt that dog I swear to god, Vic—“

“Calm the fuck down, dick, I’d never actually hurt the fucking thing,” Victoria snaps. “He’s just not allowed near anything I own.”

“John? Tori?”

The tiny yip that follows the query makes Victoria sigh. Angelica, Elizabeth, and Marina all hiss in unison. Ward frowns and Buddy wags his tail.

“Buddy came to apologize for ruining your shoes,” Ward mumbles. “And I put together some of the pocket money John gave me to cover the cost.”

Ward holds up a wrinkled bunch of singles. Buddy hangs his head. His tail stops wagging as he whines quietly.

Victoria sighs again, long-suffering. “Kid, put the cash away, you’re not paying for the damn boots. John, fuck’s sake, you give him singles? Pay him more. He puts up with you.”

She looks down at Buddy. Buddy whimpers.

“As for you,” she says. “Don’t touch my stuff.”

She sighs and takes out her wallet, handing Ward her S.H.I.E.L.D. credit card. “Go buy him enough toys and rawhide and whatever it is dogs need so this never happens again.”

Victoria actually pauses for a second to watch Ward’s entire face light up like a sunrise; slow and golden before it’s blinding, his whole face lit up with happiness.

“Yes, ma’am,” he says with a shaky little nod, turning and leaving the room as Buddy yips gleefully around his ankles.

John looks at Victoria and raises his eyebrows. She gives him a look.

“Do you think I want him getting some pissant little strip of beef that’ll last the damn thing two weeks max? No,” Victoria says. “If there’s anything I learned from my father, it’s that if you throw money at problems, they go away.”

John just smiles. “Thanks, Vic.”

…

“Did his therapist okay this?” Melinda asks as Nick’s team sits down for dinner. Ward is running late, and John checks his watch every twenty seconds with a frown.

“Well, once Ward brought the dog home, they were inseparable,” Nick says with a sigh. “Doctor Deckard says the dog’s doing him some good. It’s giving Ward a healthy, simple emotional bond. So he stays.”

“I wasn’t protesting the dog,” Melinda says. “Just concerned for Ward.”

“I know, but in case it was a subject up for debate,” Nick says, “the dog stays. He’s friendly enough and Ward needs the company while we’re gone. A dog is a lot different than Trip or Sharon.”

“Right,” John agrees. “Speaking of us being gone, how’s that Mexico report coming?”

“Could be worse,” Nick replies. “For the moment, we’re good. I do need you and Tori to come with me to a World Security Council summit meeting for a few weeks in Switzerland, though.”

“How much money do you need this time, Nicky?” Victoria says with a delighted snort. Nick rolls his eyes at her.

“The amount of budget we need is irrelevant,” Nick says. “Phil’s busy at our Monaco base and Jasper and Fee have another diplomatic meeting in Ghana.”

“I’ll stay and look after Ward,” Melinda says. “I’ve been wanting to try to train him in Tai Chi. He hits like a truck, but he’s so rigid.”

“Oh, I told him,” John says. “He was pretty excited about it, Mel. I think he has a crush on you.”

Victoria hoots gleefully. Melinda rolls her eyes. “Don’t tease him. He’s allowed to have a crush. He’s young and unused to affection.”

“Jesus, bring that up,” Victoria grumbles. “Fine, fine. Teach him Tai Chi while I go cause havoc in Switzerland. See if I bring you back chocolate.”

Melinda smiles as a knock resounds timidly on the door. John gets up and opens it for Ward and Buddy, the puppy trotting after his master and flopping down on his feet as he takes a seat at the table.

Dinner is quiet. Ward doesn’t say much and John notices him picking at his food. He says nothing and tries not to let his disapproval radiate. The last thing he wants to do is stress him or scare him into eating less.

Victoria grabs a six pack from the fridge and John nurses his beer over quiet chatter. Melinda asks him about scheduling and John supplies Ward’s normal schedule after he hastily stuffs a bite in his mouth to keep from answering.

He swallows it like it’s stone, mumbles a hasty, “I’m done, sorry,” and tries to get up.

Buddy whines from the floor, still weighing heavily on his feet. Ward stutters in his step.

“Come on, Bud,” he says. “We’re going. Don’t you want to go for a run?”

Buddy whines and rolls over to place himself more firmly on Ward’s shoes, gnawing lightly at the rubber soles. Ward grumbles.

“Buddy, move,” he says, puffing himself up slightly and trying his best to be commanding. “We’re going.”

Buddy harrumphs. Ward whines.

“Sit down and finish your plate, kiddo,” John cuts in quietly. “Maybe then he’ll move.”

Buddy wags his tail. Ward grumbles and takes a seat, eating quietly. No one pays it any mind; calling attention to it makes it worse. Ward listens to everyone discuss Switzerland and Ghana as he finishes what’s on his plate.

Buddy gets up and trots over to the door, sitting down with a soft thump and wagging his tail. Ward sighs and clears the table, putting the dishes in the sink and following the puppy out with a little grumble.

There’s a pause after he shuts the door behind him. Everyone on the team takes glances at each other.

“That dog is a gift,” Melinda finally says. All of them nod.

…

Ward jogs the perimeter of the base once, a slow warm up with Buddy by his side. When he gets bigger, Ward plans to take him for runs on the beach. For now, he’s a baby. Ward wants to run, sure, but you have to be gentle with babies. Always.

He kneels down to press a kiss to Buddy’s nose and receives a lick on the chin for his effort. Ward smiles, big and warm and genuine, and clips Buddy’s leash to a post, leaving him be with a dog biscuit to chew on while he goes to finish his jog.

Ward makes two laps before finally stopping beside the post Buddy is still waiting by, now with Trip and Sharon on either side of him. Ward approaches them both and sits down with a soft thump next to Buddy, unclipping his leash and taking a spare water bottle from his bag, pouring a bit into Buddy’s mouth.

“Hey,” he says. “What’re you two doing here?”

“Everyone’s gonna be out except Melinda for the next week or so, huh?” Sharon says with a grin. “Aren’t you excited?”

“I guess,” Ward says with a shrug. “Melinda’s teaching me Tai Chi. So—yes. But I’m going to miss everyone.”

“Nah, I get you,” Trip agrees. “It’s different for you. That’s okay. They’re kind of like your weird aunts and uncles.”

Ward blinks and furrows his brow, cocking his head. Buddy mimics the tilt.  Trip grins. “C’mon, man. They think the world of you. And I’m pretty sure if you called John ‘dad’ he wouldn’t even flinch.”

Ward shakes his head. “I…guess.”

He rubs behind Buddy’s ear and kisses his muzzle. “Either way, it’s nice. I’m glad they like me. I’m…glad I belong here.”

He glances up. “I do, right?”

“Of course you do,” Sharon soothes him, rubbing his shoulder. “Come on, sit down. I want help conjugating my Russian, and you’re the best out of all of us at languages.”

Ward brightens up and moves over to sit across from her, Buddy sitting down on his lap as he starts in on verbs.

…

Ward stands across from John as Nick and Victoria load bags into the car. He gives John a weak smile as Buddy whines and noses John’s kneecap.

“I’m gonna miss you,” Ward says. “Promise you won’t be gone for three months this time?”

“Sure do,” John says. “This is a three week summit. Nothing fancy. Don’t worry, kiddo. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” Ward replies. “Just…be safe. Please?”

“Of course,” John says, keeping his voice gentle. “I’m not going to let anything bad happen. Come here.”

Ward nods and gives him a hesitant hug. John squeezes him as tight as he can, pulling away only to ruffle his hair. Ward grins as Buddy wiggles his way in between them to join the hug before Victoria yells for John. He sighs and breaks away, heading to the van. Ward watches Nick start up the car, Buddy barking at the revving of the engine as they pull away. Ward does not so much as twitch until the car leaves his sight.

Buddy looks up at him and whines. Ward picks him up and presses his face into Buddy’s fur, closing his eyes as he hugs him close.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he promises. “Come on. Let’s go see what Melinda’s up to, okay?”

Buddy whuffs quietly as Ward sets him down, the two of them heading back inside.

...

Melinda puts her hand on his shoulder blade and lifts up his arm, guiding his gesture. “Focus, Ward. You’re going to pull a muscle trying to make your body move like that.”

Ward whines softly. “Agent May, I’m sorry, I’m trying.”

“I know, but it has to be corrected,” she says. “For your own safety, Grant.”

He nods and lets her move him back into a more fluid position. He closes his eyes as she grabs ahold of his wrist and shows him how to move his arm along his stance.

“Your hands are soft,” Ward says, his face pink. Melinda smiles.

“Surprised?” she asks, stepping away and sinking into a demonstration, her feet light on the floor as she moves in a circle. Ward nods, mimicking her movements. He’s clumsy, and his feet drag, but she gestures for him to repeat and repeat and repeat until she finally rewards him with a nod of approval.

“A little bit,” he says, performing the stance one more time to prove he can. “I mean, you hold guns a lot. And you’re really good at martial arts.”

“Tai Chi is not ‘martial arts,’” she scolds him gently. “Tai Chi is its own school of fighting. There are many different styles, and I’d like you to learn this one. You’re big and broad and sturdy, and that’s great, but you need to be more flexible.”

“I can be flexible,” Ward says. He pauses for a beat. “Ma’am.”

She just smiles and runs her hand up his arm. “I’m sure. But I’d like to get some flexibility into you before John builds you into a solid wall. Solid walls are strong, but they can be broken. I don’t want to see you break.”

“Mm,” Ward mumbles. “Thank you, ma’am. New stance?”

“Let’s get you through five more and call it a day,” Melinda says. “Lunch after.”

Ward checks his watch and nods. “Okay. That’s on schedule.”

Buddy whines by the door and rolls over, pawing at the ground in his sleep. Ward grins and shakes his head, following Melinda’s stances and going over them with her until his muscles burn and Buddy is pawing at the door for lunch.

“He’s astute,” Melinda says. Ward nods, his shoulders slumping as he sighs in relief.

“He knows my schedule by now,” Ward says. “I either feed him or give him a treat whenever I eat, so he’s got a personal stake in this too.”

“That’s interesting,” Melinda says. “You’re good friends with him, aren’t you?”

“You can make fun of me if you want, but yeah,” Ward mumbles. “It’s not like Trip or Sharon. They’re great, but…”

He sighs and puts his hands in his sweatpants pockets as he and Melinda walk down the hallway, Buddy trotting along in front of them.

“Buddy doesn’t make fun of me or tell me I’m messing up,” he says. “And he doesn’t make me worry he might do that, either. I know he’ll always love me. So…he’s my best friend, I think.”

Ward looks up at her and smiles. “Don’t tell Trip or Sharon?”

“Promise,” she says. “Fingers crossed.”

His face is completely different when he smiles. It makes his eye soften and crinkle, and his whole face lights up. She can see the man he’s going to become in the glow and it makes her heart race.

She shakes it off and purses her lips. Absolutely not.

“Agent May?” he says. “Did I do something wrong?”

She glances at him and her heart twinges. His whole face has fallen and his eyes have become dim with worry. She sighs.

“Oh no, no, you’re fine,” she says. “I’m sorry. I was just thinking.”

The two of them walk down the hall towards the rec room in silence. Melinda gives him a small, encouraging smile. “You’re very perceptive.”

“Thank you,” Ward says. “It’s been noted in my training assessments.”

Buddy plops himself down in front of the door and wags his tail. Ward smiles and lets Melinda open it, Buddy trotting over to his food bowl and waiting patiently as Ward went for the fridge.

“Leftovers?” he says. Melinda shakes her head.

“Can’t trust what’s in there, Tori never remembers to throw anything out,” she says with a sigh and a faraway look in her eyes. “Idiot.”

It was said so lovingly that Ward barely flinched. He just nodded.

“I’ll make us something,” she says. “Stir fried vegetables and sesame sauce sound all right?”

Ward frowns. “Do we need the sesame?”

“I have to put something on it, I can’t just grill vegetables,” she says. “I promise sesame is healthy. And more filling. And I’ll make you one of those kale shakes you insist on eating.”

Ward nods. “Okay. Thank you. You can add agave nectar to the kale shake if we have it—I mean, if it’s not a problem. I’m sorry. I’ll make it myself.”

“No no, sit down,” she soothes him. “Actually, feed Buddy and then sit. I won’t have him hovering.”

“He doesn’t hover, he’s very well trained,” Ward protests. “Right, Buddy?”

He woofs quietly in agreement and rolls over, looking up at Melinda with a big grin, his tongue flopping out onto his face. Melinda sighs.

“Right,” she says. “Even so, you should feed him now.”

Ward nods and takes out his can of dog food, shaking the can out into his bowl. Buddy waits until he moves the can away to get up and start scarfing it down. Ward smiles and puts the can in the recycling, washing his hands as Buddy noses his bowl.

“He’s such a sweetheart,” Melinda says. “I’m surprised no one’s complained about you having a dog, though.”

“Oh, Nick and I went out for a walk with him together,” Ward says as he gets plates and cups. “No one gave me trouble for having him after that.”

“That’s fair,” Melinda says with a small chuckle. “Nick’s used to getting around the rules for a lot of things. I think he’s spent his entire life that way.”

Ward nods. “You have to stay safe. It’s easier to do things and stay safe when you lie.”

“Not all the time,” Melinda promises. “And not here. You know that, don’t you?”

Ward makes a tiny noise. She’s not sure if it’s assent or not. She sighs. “Ward, I know it’s only been a few months. But we all care for you. John especially.”

“I know,” Ward mumbles, looking away. “I don’t lie here. I don’t have to.”

“You might someday,” she says. “But only to keep others safe. Not in front of us. We don’t want you to lie to us. This is a safe place. That’s why we have this room, you know. This is where all of us are safe.”

Ward nods. Buddy barks, wagging his tail. Melinda looks at Ward and notes how he barely pauses, just beckoning to Buddy as he gets up, trotting over to him and flopping down on his feet as soon as Ward starts to scratch lightly behind his ear.

“Thank you,” he says. “I’m always honest with you, Agent May.”

“You’ll call Nick by his first name and not me?” she teases. Ward shrugs.

“May I?” he asks. She nods.

“If you like,” she replies. “You call the rest of my team by their names. Which is fair. You’re…well, I don’t think you’d want to call us mom or dad or anything like that.”

“No,” he murmurs in Chinese. “Just being you is enough, Melinda.”

“You’re improving,” she says as she stirs the vegetables in the skillet. “I’m impressed. Should I tell my mother?”

“Oh god no, she quizzed me last time,” Ward mumbles. “It was embarrassing.”

“Really? I’m surprised to hear that,” she says. “We talked on the phone after she left and she said you did wonderfully.”

What she’d _really_ said was ‘he’s not bad for a white boy,’ but Melinda knew that _was_ a compliment as far as her mother went, and it made Ward happy to hear it. He beams at her and Melinda just shakes her head, turning back to the skillet.

“I’m doing my best,” Ward says after a few minutes of silence. “But I’m not as big as Phil or Nick or John. I don’t understand.”

“Well, Fee’s trained in judo and tae kwon do and he’s barely half your body mass,” Melinda says. “I don’t think that it’s necessarily something you should concern yourself with. You’re fifteen, Ward.”

“Almost sixteen,” he mumbles into his water. “Two months on Wednesday.”

“Really?” Melinda says, brows raised. “You never mentioned.”

“Um, it’s not important,” Ward says. “It doesn’t matter until I can join SpecOps. And that’s when I’m eighteen.”

“Grant,” Melinda says with a sigh. “Birthdays are important.”

“Why? Doesn’t matter. I can’t eat cake and none of you should buy me presents,” he says. “It’s not a big deal. I have Buddy and I have a bed to sleep in and food when I need it. I don’t need anything else.”

Melinda closes her eyes and tries not to think. If she thinks too hard about his words she’ll say something she regrets.

“John’s going to want to buy you something,” she says. “And I know he’ll want to go for a drive, too. You can go back to the pier with Buddy, run on the beach.”

“Sounds good,” Ward says with a nod. “But…I don’t want John to buy anything.”

“Try and stop him,” Melinda says. “He’s going to buy you the moon, Grant. He just wants you to be happy.”

“I am happy here,” Ward says. “No one has to prove anything to me about that. I know I’m happy here, and I’m wanted. That’s what matters.”

Melinda pauses, nods, and smiles.

“Even so,” she says. “We’ll have a little party when they get back. Just us and Trip and Sharon. How’s that sound?”

Ward nods, mostly because he doesn’t see any other option. Melinda smiles. “You’ll have fun, I promise.”

Ward nods and rubs Buddy’s back with his foot. Buddy wags his tail as Melinda separates the vegetables into two portions and leaves them to cool while she starts the blender. Ward waits patiently by the table until she finally sits down across from him with a cup of tea, sliding the kale shake over to him.

“Thank you, Melinda,” he says, taking a bite of the vegetables and closing his eyes.

“Something wrong?” she says. Ward shakes his head.

“No, these are just…fantastic,” he says. “Wow. I’m sorry. You’re really good at this.”

“Phil usually cooks,” she says. “I don’t mind. It makes him happy to mother us, so he gets to cook dinner. But I admit, I get tired of gnocchi.”

Ward smiles. “I like it. But I don’t eat much of it, so maybe I can’t comment.”

“You need to start eating more,” Melinda says. “Phil’s quite the skilled chef, you know.”

“I don’t want to offend him, but it’s just hard,” Ward protests. “I know I should eat more, but…I don’t know how.”

He sips his drink and takes a bite of the vegetables before he sighs. “As long as I’m full and it’s not bad food then I don’t mind. I just have to eat right. I’m barely toning up as it is, and…”

Melinda sighs and stands up, unzipping her jacket and putting it on the back of the chair. Ward swallows, his chest constricting as he looks at her sports bra.

“Ward,” she says. “Look at me.”

“I am,” he says. “Um.”

“Do I have defined muscle?” she asks. Ward wrinkles his nose.

“A little,” he says, taking in her stomach and arms with a pink face. “I mean, I guess.”

“You’re right. It’s not a lot. And before you protest because I’m female, you have to keep in mind you’re still young. So you’re not going to be gaining muscle at the rate of an adult male either,” she explains. “I know you’re scared, and that’s okay. I know you’re concerned and this isn’t the sort of environment where you feel safe without some kind of strength. But you are strong, Ward. And you’ve got a whole life ahead of you to get stronger.”

Ward nods mutely, taking another bite.

“It’s not fair,” he says. “I work so hard.”

“You could get toned if you wanted. Make your muscles bulging and defined. But it’d fade by the time you were thirty. You’d be weak later and for longer,” she says. “You build a good foundation now, while you’re young. You get solid and strong. You can build up on it when you need to.”

Ward crosses his arms over his stomach. “You promise?”

“I promise,” she agrees. “If I’m wrong, and by the time you graduate SpecOps, you’re still not satisfied with how you look, we’ll handle it. Right now though…you’re just a boy. You’re so young, Ward, and you need to give yourself a break.”

“That’s what everyone says,” Ward mumbles. “But I don’t _feel_ young.”

“You’ve had to grow up much faster than you should have,” Melinda agrees. “But your body didn’t need to grow like your mind did. Give it some patience. You deserve that much, Ward. Patience and time and love.”

“Do you love me?” Ward asks, head cocked.

“The whole team loves you,” she replies. “I promise. We’d do anything for you. You’re ours. And we’ll protect you.”

Ward opens his mouth like he wants to probe the point further before he changes his mind and nods. “Okay. Thank you. I…I’ll do my best for you too.”

“That’s all we want,” Melinda promises. “You’re just fine, Grant. I promise. Now finish your vegetables.”

Ward nods and goes back to his plate, Buddy waiting patiently by his feet as he finishes up.

Ward puts their plates in the sink and helps her wash up afterwards, quietly scrubbing until the plates are dripping and glistening.

“I’m going to go work on my afternoon routine now,” Ward says. “I’ll work the stances you taught me in, okay? I love you.”

He kisses her cheek and bolts from the room, Buddy toddling after him with an offended yip at being excluded. Melinda puts her fingers to her cheek where he’d kissed her and sighs.

...

Three weeks pass, and Ward is sleeping on the floor in Melinda’s room, in the same place he’s been every night since their talk.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles as he lays down. “I don’t know what to do. Everyone’s gone.”

“Don’t apologize,” Melinda tells him. “That’s why I’m here.”

Ward nods and settles in on the mattress. “Have they called?”

“No,” she replies. “Sometimes an extra day happens for some end of meeting negotiations. Nick usually gets what he really wants in the last day of bargaining. Don’t worry, Ward. He’ll be just fine, and so will John.”

Ward nods as Buddy circles and settles in with a soft thump next to him. “Thank you, Melinda. Are you worried for Tori?”

“Mm? No. She can take care of herself,” Melinda says. “I trust her to have my back in a fight. That doesn’t change just because I’m not there.”

“Okay,” Ward agrees, closing his eyes and sighing softly. “Sorry. Buddy, say goodnight.”

Buddy yawns in Melinda’s general direction. She smiles. “Goodnight, Buddy. Goodnight, Grant.”

He’s already half-asleep, Buddy tucking his muzzle under his chin. Melinda watches him drift off before she sighs and tries to settle down herself.

She wants to sleep. More than anything, she wants to sleep and not think of the emptiness in her chest. But she’s better than that. She can sleep with worry on her mind. She can do this. This is what she was trained for.

She was also trained to endure without sleep, but frankly, she’d rather not.

Melinda closes her eyes and sighs, taking Victoria’s cashmere cardigan from under her pillow and pressing it against her face. It smells like her perfume; something spicy and earthy, mingling with cigarette smoke that clings to her clothes even now, after she’s quit.

Melinda’s heart aches. She’s tempted, briefly, to call Ward up to her bed, just for some warmth and company, but she shakes her head. He’s asleep, he is safe, and he’ll stay that way.

Besides, the dog would have to come too. And Melinda could do without that.

She sighs and watches out her window, waiting. Something is keeping her awake. Her eyes ache with exhaustion, but she sits waiting by the window. Something is going to need her attention, and hopefully soon.

Just as her eyelids start to droop, her entire body trying to shut down the disquiet in her heart and soul, the phone starts to ring from Nick’s office, loud and keening.

Ward sleeps through it. Melinda bolts from the room, racing for the phone. She picks it up before Ward can wake from it and listens quietly.

She hangs up after a few minutes and a few questions before looking out the window at the sky. Almost dawn. Let Ward sleep until morning came. He would need the solace.

…

John’s ears are ringing as he tries to hold his intestines in with a single blood drenched hand, looking up at Victoria as his vision fades.

“This is why I hate diplomatic conferences,” he says. “You think we’re gonna get the money Nick wants for the new Helicarrier? After insurance covers bomb damage, we should be rolling in dough.”

“Depends,” Victoria says, her voice shaking as she lifts her hands up to cover the wound for him, pressing her jacket against it. “We just trashed the new one—trashed it, uh, last week.”

“Vic,” John says, his voice soft. “Relax. And don’t ruin your jacket for me.”

Victoria shakes her head and the two are silent.

“I always said you were a gutbucket, but fuck’s sake, John,” Victoria forces out, “I didn’t want you to take it literally.”

John smiles and shakes his head. “Seems like your manhands are gonna save the day, Vic. Thank god for those.”

“Fuck you,” she says, her voice trembling. “John? Nick’s coming. Please don’t die.”

“I’m not gonna,” he says, before lapsing into silence. He can’t hear the comm chatter in his ear, but he can hear Victoria shouting to Nick, giving him their coordinates.

“If I do,” he says, “take care of Ward. Please. Please make sure he doesn’t die like this.”

“You’re not going to die, stop it,” Victoria demands. “Stop it, John, I mean it.”

“Just take care of the kid,” John says. “Vic…”

“I will, I will! But you have to promise me you _won’t die here,_ okay?” Victoria says, blinking back tears. “Okay?”

“Okay,” he says, closing his eyes. “Just sleep. I just want to sleep.”

Victoria grabs his chin with her free hand and jerks his head up. “Absolutely not. _Nick!_ Where the fuck _are you,_ Nick!”

There’s no response on her comm.

“ _Director Fury!”_ she roars. “ _Where are you?”_

There’s a rumbling sound and a squeal of tires. Victoria looks up to see an armored car bust through the wall, Nick hanging off the side.

“John’s _bleeding!”_ she screams.

“S’a little more than bleeding,” he mumbles, blood leaking from his mouth. Nick opens the back of the truck and the two of them pull out a makeshift stretcher, helping him onto it and loading him in the back. Victoria climbs in and stays with him as Nick peels out of the bombed-out building and down the road, towards the barricade.

The ambulance is waiting for all of them. John rides in a separate one designed for emergency operations, and Victoria clings mutely to Nick the entire ride to the hospital.

“I’m sorry,” Nick finally says. “This is on me. I shouldn’t have taken you two. I’d heard reports there was trouble in the area, but I didn’t…I didn’t think…”

“You’re not the problem,” Victoria says. “We’re meant to be with you, Nick. You’re King Arthur and we’re your knights of the round table. You know how it goes. John would die for you same as Fee, or Jasper, or Melinda, or me. Or Phil.”

“I don’t want you to,” Nick replies. “That’s not the point of having a team. You’re not my human shield.”

“Sometimes we just get caught in the blast range,” Victoria mumbles, laying her head on his shoulder. “Nick? I want to sleep.”

“You’ve got a concussion, Tori,” he says. “You can’t.”

“Then I want to die,” she replies, staring listlessly out the window as the hospital looms into view. Nick squeezes her hand.

“Then Melinda will kick your ass,” he says.

She smiles vaguely and nods, letting Nick help her out of the van.

“Next time I take you two, we’re asking for gold plated hot tubs,” he says. “Nothing less.”

“Sounds fantastic,” Victoria says, the two of them being swarmed by doctors the second they step foot into the ER. “I still need a fucking smoke.”

…

Ward wakes up to Buddy whining and licking his face. He rubs his muzzle and rolls over, stretching and getting out of bed.

“Buddy? What’s wrong?” he mumbles.

Buddy whines and yips, getting up and trotting out the door. Ward follows him out to find Melinda in the rec room, sipping tea and staring at the wall. Jasper, Felix, and Phil are sitting around her, silent strength and comfort.

“Melinda?” he says. “Hey, Melinda? Howcome everyone’s home?”

Melinda purses her lips and sighs, taking a sip of her tea. Ward notices the cup tremble in her hand.

“Grant,” she says. “John…I don’t…”

“There was a bomb at the Swiss hotel they were meeting at,” Jasper says, keeping his voice gentle. “Some anti-government terrorist organization. I can’t keep track anymore. John got caught in the blast.”

Ward’s face drains completely of color. Buddy presses himself against his shins, wagging his tail desperately, licking at the baggy, worn flannel of his pajama pants to soothe him.

“Not dead,” he says, his voice trembling. “Please please please not dead. Not John. Please.”

“He’s in the hospital,” Phil says. “They’re treating him with Victoria and Nick for minor injuries. He’ll be out of surgery soon, and we were all going to go to pick them up. You’re welcome to come, of course. You’re as much a part of this as any of us.”

Ward nods and sits down on the couch. Buddy leaps up into his lap and nudges under his chin.

Ward hugs him tight and starts to cry. Quietly, of course. But his entire body shakes with the effort as he tries to get a grip on himself, his shoulders shaking and his whole chest heaving as he tries to breathe, sobbing as softly as he can. He doesn’t speak, he doesn’t move, even to wipe his tears away. He just weeps.

The rest of the team cleans up from breakfast and saves him a plate. It takes an hour for him to stop crying, and they don’t leave his side until he does.

Ward lifts his head up, his entire chest feeling like he’d taken his heart and wrung it out to dry, leaving him hollow.

“We have to go,” he says. “Now. Please.”

“Pack your bags,” Phil says. “We’ve got a plane waiting.”

Ward nods. “Buddy?”

“We’ll need a separate carrier,” Phil hedges.

Ward’s eyes well up. Phil might’ve protested further except that Ward didn’t even seem to notice he was crying. He sighs. “Okay. I’ll go get one. You pack your things.”

Ward nods and leaves for his room without a word.

He lifts back his blanket to make his bed after three weeks of not sleeping in it, only to find John’s leather jacket lying under the covers.

Ward picks it up and buries himself in it, sitting down on the bed and allowing himself the luxury of a few more tears.

He gets up without a word and packs his bags. When he curls up in the back of the plane next to Buddy’s crate twenty minutes later, he uses the jacket as a pillow.

…

John’s head is pounding so hard his vision swims as he reaches up to rub his temple, blinking drugged sleep from his eyes.

“You’re awake,” Nick says. “John, Christ. You okay?”

“Well, I’m assuming this isn’t heaven, so I’m not dead,” John says, heaving a sigh and feeling his ribs groan in protest. “Everything else is debatable.”

He looks around. “Vic?”

“Tori’s getting a concussion treated,” Nick says. “She’s fine. Just in the other room.”

He looks John up and down. “I thought you were going to die.”

“That bad?” he says. Nick frowns.

“No field for two months,” he says. “Minimum. You were holding your guts in with your fucking hand, John.”

“Vic was,” he murmurs absently. “Not me. Thank god for her man hands.”

“Is now _really_ the time for jokes? You practically _died,_ John! I just almost lost two of my people!” Nick roars. John holds his hand up.

“I’m fine,” he says. “Jesus, I’m alive. Vic’s had worse.”

“This is my fault,” Nick says. “I brought you two along and almost got you killed.”

“Every time we go out with you, Nick, we prepare to die,” John replies. “Don’t think we don’t know what we’re doing. You didn’t pick us because we were fucking incompetent. We know damn well what we’re in for.”

Nick pauses for a second before he looks out the window.

“Tori told me almost the same thing,” he says. “I suppose I’m not…surprised. But I don’t want you to be my human shield, John.”

“I wasn’t even that,” he grunts. “Collateral. Blast range.”

“All the same,” Nick says. “I’m here to keep you six safe. Not to have you die on my account.”

John waves him off. “Could be worse. Grieve and mope when I’m actually dead, Nick.”

He closes his eyes. “Not that I’m not appreciating the wailing and rending of the cloth here.”

Nick snorts, and the two of them fall silent.

“It’s…good to have you back,” Nick says. “I’ve been awake all night.”

“You should’ve slept,” John scolds him. “Christ, Nick, there’s no need for you to be awake right now.”

“Well, I had to give a briefing for the council in the aftermath and list the damage,” Nick says. “We’re gonna have plenty of pork set aside for us next budget go-round. Isn’t Ward’s birthday in a month or so?”

“Buy him a fucking Lambo,” John says with a sigh. “Vic would approve.”

“As long as neither of you give him driving lessons,” Nick says. “Maybe Phil.”

“Your boyfriend drives like a granny,” John says. “I’ll do it.”

“Absolutely not,” Nick says. “Fee drives like a reasonable person. Let Fee do it.”

“Fine,” John says with a grumble, closing his eyes. Silence falls between the two of them again.

“I’m glad I’m going to see it happen,” John says. “His birthday, I mean.”

Nick nods.  “I’m sure he’ll be too.”

He gets up and sighs. “Hold on. I’m going to go check on Vic and field a few calls. Will you be all right?”

“I’m not dead,” John replies. “That’s what counts.”

Nick nods and lets him be. John sighs and closes his eyes, settling in with a grimace. His entire body is a landmine of pain and every little movement sets it off and makes it worse. He bites his lip and tilts his head back, looking up at the ceiling.

…

Phil flashes his badge at the receptionist and says something quietly in Swedish. Ward can only pick out bits and pieces, but ‘Director Fury’ pops up more than once.

The nurse gestures to Buddy. Phil winces and continues on in Swedish. All Ward picks up is ‘therapy dog.’ He supposes that’s close enough to count.

He waits for Phil to come back to them and beckon them forward, the whole team moving through the hospital in a tight knot. Buddy clings to Ward’s side, completely silent.

They arrive on the eighth floor, and Melinda and Ward look at each other.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” Ward promises her in Chinese. “Are you scared?”

She shakes her head. “No. But…I am hesitant.”

Ward nods. “That’s okay.”

He offers his hand, his head cocked.

After a pause, she accepts it. Ward squeezes it as the elevator doors close behind them.

Phil’s entire face lights up in sheer relief as he bolts down the hallway and past the nurses, flinging himself into Nick’s arms. Nick takes a step back and presses a quick kiss into his hair.

“Hi,” Phil breathes into his shoulder. “Nick! You’re safe!”

“I am,” he promises, pressing a kiss to Phil’s forehead. “I wasn’t the one who got caught in the blast, Phil.”

Ward’s chest hurts. He tries to breathe and it’s like trying to dig out a hole in a mountain with his nails.

“Please,” he says, “I want to see John, please.”

His voice cracks, and he’s never despised puberty more. Nick regards him with a single eye, and Ward does not drop his gaze.

“He’s excited for your birthday,” is all he says. Ward’s shoulders slump in relief.

“Come on, give Grant some privacy,” he says. “Tori’s awake and she’s demanding to see you, Mel.”

Melinda smiles and squeezes Grant’s hand one last time before she slips out of his grip and leaves with the rest of the team towards Victoria’s room. Ward turns around and reads the list of patients on the doors until he finds John’s room.

He puts his hand on the door and swallows.

“Kid,” John’s voice comes through the door, making him jump. “Come in. I need to see you.”

Ward opens the door and steps into the room, glancing around. Buddy trots to the corners and sniffs before returning to Ward. He nods.

“All clear,” he murmurs, not looking at John.

“I don’t think even I’d be unlucky enough to get hit by a bomb twice,” John says with a snort. “Kiddo. Grant, come here. Look at me.”

Ward looks up at him, pale and weary and still with the air of surgery hanging over him. He takes a few hesitant steps towards the bed.

“Just a stomach wound,” John says. “Nothing too bad.”

“You’re lying to me,” Ward says. “Stomach wounds are some of the most at risk for infection. Tutors said.”

“Well, I’m not—it’s sterilized, look, I’m going to be fine, a few months out of field, and—“

“ _You could’ve died,”_ Ward cuts in, tears running down his face. “You almost _died, John!”_

“Grant,” John says, his face softening. “Come here.”

“If I touch you, I’ll hurt you,” Ward says, “and you’ll die, you _will_ , I can’t—“

Buddy whines and leans against his shins, nuzzling him. Ward’s chest heaves as he tries to get ahold of his hyperventilating. John beckons him closer.

“Come here, Grant,” he says. “Come here, please. Just cry it out for me, kiddo. I’m not going anywhere. Come here.”

Ward lets himself put a hesitant hand on John’s shoulder before he tugs him down and wraps his arms tight around Ward, his fingers almost bruising on his back as Ward starts to bawl. His cries are loud and reedy and his chest heaves with every sob, but John’s fingers never lose their bruising grip.

Ward cries like that until he feels the same gut-wrenching hollowness in his chest that he’d had before, sobbing on the couch at home. John wipes his face and rubs his shoulder gently.

“There you go,” he says, his voice gentle. “That’s it, that’s what you needed. I’m not going anywhere. And that’ll be our little secret, okay?”

“Okay,” Ward says with a little sniffle. “M’sorry.”

“No, no, no sorries,” he says. “Nothing to say sorry for. I wanted you here.”

“I wanted to be here,” Ward says. “I got, I got woken up and everyone was so, and it—I could feel it, it felt like home, like before someone was going to get hurt, before I got hurt, before, and, and I don’t, it hurt it made me sick to my stomach and I knew you were hurt I could feel it and—“

“Breathe,” John says, putting a hand on his chest. “There we go. There’s my good boy. Take a good long breath.”

Ward sits down and whimpers. John cups his cheek. “There you go. It’s okay. I’m going to go home and I’m going to get physical therapy before I return to field and you’re not going to lose me. I’m going to be with you. No one’s hurt. Everyone’s been patched up and we’re going to go home as a family. Okay?”

Ward doesn’t want to meet his eyes. He can feel the kindness radiating from his gaze and it hurts. He nods mutely. John squeezes his hand.

“Everyone else coming in soon?” he says. Ward nods.

“Said we could have some privacy,” he mumbles, wiping at his eyes. “Nick, I mean. He says you wanna have a birthday party for me.”

“Shit, kiddo, don’t you?” John says. “Turning sixteen’s a pretty big deal, huh? We’re gonna get you a Lambo. Nick said Fee’s gonna teach you how to drive, but me and Vic’ll take you out for a spin, promise.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Ward mumbles. “It’s just a birthday, doesn’t mean anything.”

“It does to me,” John says. “Means you made it another year. Means I get to watch you grow up. Means you get to _be_ grown up.”

Ward closes his eyes and nods.

“If you want one, we can have one,” he mumbles. “I guess, I mean…I dunno. M’sorry.”

“We’ll have a good one,” John promises him, his voice gentle. “You’ll enjoy it, promise. First real birthday in a long time, huh?”

“Just want you to come home,” Ward says, squeezing his hand. John nods.

“And I will,” he says. “Don’t look so scared, kiddo. Nick wouldn’t leave me to die. I had Vic there the whole time.”

Ward nods. “I know. I have to say thank you.”

“Later, later, just have a seat,” John says. “Tell me about Tai Chi. Mel’s not working you too hard?”

Ward shakes his head and settles in, launching into a story. He sees John’s eyes close every so often and Buddy barks him awake every time.

“Kiddo, it’s okay, I’m not going anywhere,” John protests. Ward nods.

“I know, I just—stay with me?” he pleads.

John nods and squeezes his hand. “Promise. But really, I can sleep, I swear. If my vitals go crazy, then you go get the nurses.”

Ward nods.

The rest of Nick’s team comes in an hour later to find John asleep, Ward dozing off, bent over with his head on John’s chest, and Buddy sleeping on Ward’s feet.

“Christ,” Melinda says, trying not to smile. Ward turns to her in his sleep, stirring and opening his eyes.

“I was keeping an eye on him,” Ward promises. Melinda nods, stroking his hair. Ward tilts his head into her touch.

“I know,” she says. “Thank you.”

Ward smiles. Buddy’s tail wags in his sleep.

…

The plane ride home is quiet. Buddy sleeps in his crate and Ward sleeps next to Buddy, still using John’s jacket as a pillow. John is still confined to a bed in the tight spaces of the jet, and Nick is infinitely grateful Ward is asleep and at ease for the entire ride home. John would complain the whole way otherwise.

The next time Ward wakes up, he’s in his own bed and Buddy is with him. John’s jacket is gone but the smell of it still clings to him.

Buddy snuggles closer and Ward lays his arm over his flank, feeling his ribs rise and fall with every breath.

“Kiddo, it’s ten. Breakfast is ready,” John says. Ward grunts.

“You shouldn’t be standing,” he protests, getting up out of bed, Buddy trotting behind him and sitting on John’s feet as he opens the door with a plaintive whine. John shrugs.

“Well, everyone else was doing something, so I came to get you,” he says. “Come on. I’ll be back down on the couch for the next couple of months, I’m sure, so at least let me have this.”

Ward grumbles, but he doesn’t argue further as John and Buddy lead the way into the rec room.

“You really should be laying down,” Jasper chides him as John picks up the newspaper and sits down at the table with a groan.

“Fuck off, babyface, I want sausage,” he grumbles.

“Jesus, not at the table, there’s children present,” Victoria says. John rolls up the newspaper and whaps her on the arm. She slugs him in the shoulder as Phil sighs and flips pancakes. Ward just cocks his head and wrinkles his nose.

“I thought we were having bacon,” he says. “I mean, um. It’s no big deal, I’m not eating either—“

“I called your nutritionist, and since you changed your exercise regimen, she wants you eating more protein,” Phil says, setting sausage links on his plate with a little hmph. “Two sausages.”

“Please don’t,” Ward says. Buddy whines.

“I’ll go lay down on the couch with that noxious electrolyte-replenisher,” John says. “But you have to eat.”

Ward glances at everyone and assesses the situation before he exhales through his teeth. “Okay.”

John nods, getting up with a wince and re-settling on the pull-out couch with an exaggerated groan. Ward gets up to bring him his breakfast in another few minutes and grins when John makes a face at him. He finishes every bite without being prompted that day.

…

Trip and Sharon meet him in the morning after classes, Buddy running up to them and bumping his head against Trip’s shin. He reaches down to rub behind his ears with a smile. “Hey, Bud.”

Buddy barks. Ward huffs and joins the group. “Hi, guys. Do we have anything today?”

“Huh? No, no,” Trip says, glancing over at Sharon. “You have a meeting with your Russian tutor in ten, right? John says someone’s supposed to pick you up after.”

“What? Oh, okay,” Ward says. “Okay. Are we doing something?”

“Don’t think so,” Trip says. “Just dinner as usual probably.”

The two of them hide their matching frowns at the sudden relieved slump to Ward’s shoulders. He smiles.

“Awesome,” he says. “Okay. See you guys in a bit, then?”

“Yeah,” Sharon says. “Hey, Ward…”

She kisses his cheek. “Happy birthday.”

“Oh, right,” he says. “Uhm. Thanks, Sharon.”

She watches him go with a sigh, Buddy trotting after him. Trip puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Man, don’t worry about it,” he says. “He’s gonna be fine.”

“He’s really not,” Sharon says. “I dunno, Trip. You two do guy stuff together, so maybe you know something I don’t, but from where I’m standing…he really needs something.”

“What is it, then?” he asks. She rubs her temples.

“I wish I knew,” she says. “I don’t think he does, either.”

Trip just nods. “He’ll be fine. He’s getting better. That’s all you can ask a guy to do after he’s been through everything he’s been through, you know?”

Sharon nods, but she still has a frown on her face as the two of them go to meet with their tutors.

…

Ward sits with his tutor, Buddy on his lap, as he goes over Russian verbs and the Cyrillic alphabet until his eyes are aching.

“Why don’t you break a little early today?” she says to him gently, still in Russian. “I heard it’s your birthday, Ward. Aren’t you excited?”

“Um,” Ward says. “Thank you, ma’am. Happy birthday.”

He blinks, realizes his mistake, picks up Buddy, and bolts.

His tutor sighs and smiles, clucking her tongue sympathetically and shaking her head.

Ward puts Buddy down as soon as they’re back outside, looking around and shifting from foot to foot nervously, fiddling with his thumbs and exhaling with a sigh, sitting down on the steps.

“What do we do now, Bud?” he asks. “We could go for a jog.”

Buddy nuzzles him. Ward sighs. “But someone was supposed to pick me up, and if I’m not here, they’ll get worried. I don’t know what to do.”

Buddy whines and noses him. Ward leans down to press a kiss into his muzzle. “I know, pup. We’ll be okay, promise. Don’t be scared.”

Buddy whines louder. Ward rubs his back. “Bud, what’s the matter? You okay?”

Ward hears it a few seconds after Buddy does—the loud squeal of tires hitting the asphalt and, as the car approaches, loud swearing.

John and Victoria pull up in front of the building with a sleek new car. Ward looks it over and places the model.

“I thought you already owned one of these,” he says to Victoria.

“I do, this one’s yours,” she says. “Get in, kiddo.”

“What?” Ward says, holding Buddy close. “No, I can’t. That car cost way too much. I’m not gonna—“

“Get in the car, Grant,” John says, his voice gentle but firm. Ward wilts and climbs into the back of the car, setting Buddy down on the other seat.

“I was going to get you something more sporty, but a four-seater’s a little more practical, given that I’m sure Trip and Sharon are going to want to go places with you,” John says as they tear through the base. “And Buddy needs a place in the back, of course.”

Buddy wags his tail. Ward shakes his head. “John, please, I can’t take this, I can’t, I can’t—“

“Hey, relax,” John says, his voice gentle. “Look, think of it as a make-up for the whole bomb incident back in Switzerland. The insurance got paid out to S.H.I.E.L.D. since it was our facility, and so we got you a Lambo.”

Ward shakes his head. “You don’t need to make up anything to me! I just—I’m just glad you’re alive. That’s all I care about.”

John nods, reaching back to ruffle his hair. “I know, I know. But I care about giving you a good birthday, okay? And a good car. You want something solid.”

“He’s gonna crash this in like six weeks,” Victoria says. “He’s sixteen.”

“You’re the one who crashes every car you own after a month, Vic,” John says. “We’ll get Phil and Fee to teach him how to drive like a granny. He’ll be just fine.”

“I wasn’t saying it was a bad thing, I was saying we’re gonna have to buy him a new one,” Victoria says.

“Please don’t,” Ward says, near tears. “Please, I don’t _want it,_ I don’t—“

John looks at Victoria and she pulls over.

“Hey,” he says. “Kiddo, talk to me. What’s the problem?”

“I’m—I don’t—I don’t want this,” Ward says, his voice shaking. Buddy climbs into his lap and nuzzles his chest. “I don’t want this, I don’t—I’m _scared_ , I don’t want it held against me later! It’s so much money and you’re _wasting it_ all on _me_ and _everything is going to be all my fault when it breaks!”_

Victoria and John are quiet. Buddy noses through Ward’s hands to lick the tears he’s trying desperately to hide.

“Kiddo,” John says. “No one’s going to hold the car over your head. No one wants anything from you except for you to be happy. I promise. No one’s going to blame you for crashing the car, or for anything that might happen to it. You’re going to be just fine, no matter what happens to the car. Okay?”

Ward sniffles and rubs at his eyes. “It hurts.”

“It’s okay, I know,” John promises. “It’s allowed to. You’re a good kid, Ward. I promise, it’s going to be all right. This is your birthday, okay? And we’re going to make it special. For your sake. No strings attached.”

Ward nods. John reaches back and squeezes his hand. “You ready to head back home?”

Home is still an unfamiliar, heavy word, but when John says it, the rec room blooms in the forefront of his mind immediately, flowering images of the beat up dinner table and worn out couch making his shoulders slump. Home doesn’t feel like burning anymore.

“I am,” he says.

“Good,” John says. “Proud of you, kiddo.”

Ward settles into the back without another word as Victoria makes a left and hits the gas.

…

Buddy wakes him up with a nuzzle as Ward stirs. He’d only fallen asleep for ten minutes, but he felt a little less achy when he opened the car door and got out, John and Victoria already waiting for him.

“Come on, kiddo, we’ve got places to be,” John says. “Mind carrying this?”

Ward holds onto the package John gives him with a resolute nod, following both of them down the hallway as John opens the door to the rec room.

Balloons float cheerfully in Ward’s face as he enters, and the unified shout of “Surprise! Happy birthday!” makes him jump, clinging to the package as Buddy barks at the balloons.

“It’s okay,” Ward says to him. “It’s okay, it’s just a party, this is a party—for me?”

“Well, of course,” Victoria says. “Go put that down, your presents are by the couch.”

“More presents?” Ward says, trying not to sound panicked. Victoria nods.

“We kept it simple, don’t worry,” she promises him. “Go set that down, that’s the last one.”

Ward nods and does as he’s told, sitting down at the table with everyone, his hands folded on his lap as he tries to keep his breathing steady. Guilt makes him nauseous and self-hate makes his eyes burn. How dare he react like this to kindness? How could he? After everything he’d put everyone through just by existing—

Buddy yips quietly and noses at his knee. Ward reaches down to pet him without thinking and blinks away tears he barely noticed.

John is at his side, stroking his hair.

“It’s okay, kiddo,” John soothes him. “You’re okay. You’re fine. Get yourself settled before we do anything else. Okay?”

“Okay,” Ward says with a little sob. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry…”

“No sorries,” John says. “No need. Breathe for me, okay?”

Ward nods and wipes his eyes. John’s touch doesn’t desert his body until his chest settles and he feels calm enough to nod, giving everyone the best smile he can muster.

“Sorry,” he says before John hushes him and he actually grins, wiping his eyes. “Right, yeah. Okay.”

The cake is enormous, which is the first thing he takes in as soon as he looks around. Phil and Jasper had collaborated—which explained the swearing he’d managed to hear all the way from the languages department—on an enormous six-tier cake that had pale blue piping and real buttercream frosting.

“No candles?” Ward says with a grin.

“What, and damage the cake?” Jasper protests. “Come on.”

“If the kiddo wants candles he can have candles, it’s his birthday, Jesus—“

“John, I was teasing,” Ward says. “It’s okay.”

John raises his eyebrows and nods. “Okay.”

“It’s really well done,” Ward promises. “A little big, though.”

“Oh, we’re going to be eating leftovers for weeks,” Phil says. “Leftover cake is best, though. Especially if you freeze it so it has to unfreeze and gets moist.”

“Oh,” Ward says, wrinkling his nose. “It doesn’t make it soggy?”

“No,” Phil promises. “But you are going to have a slice. Just one. We fiddled with the recipe a little so it’s not as sugary as it could be. And you can have a candle on that slice, okay?”

Ward doesn’t say anything for a few minutes as Trip and Sharon come in, Felix behind them with another bag of presents, passing a sheaf of files off to Nick before he takes a seat with a huff.

“Okay,” he finally says. “Okay.”

Phil beams and cuts him a slice, sticking a candle into it and lighting the wick.

“You gotta wish for something, kiddo,” John tells him as someone kills the lights. Ward blinks.

“What? Oh—oh. Um.”

He closes his eyes and thinks for a few seconds before he nods and blows the candle out.

“Oh, I wished for—“

“Ah,” John cuts in, “don’t tell me. Then you’re not going to get it. And I’m sure you want it, whatever it is, right?”

Ward nods. “Yeah. I do.”

He throws his arms around John and hugs him so tight his arms shake.

“Happy birthday, Grant,” John says, rubbing his back. Ward presses to his cheek.

“Yeah,” he says. “Love you.”

“Love you too,” John promises as Phil cuts the rest of the cake and he and Jasper argue over which tiers to save.


	2. Graduation and Gifts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ward gets some new friends and grows up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so surreal for this to be flying by so quickly since I certainly didn't write it so quickly, but in any case: enjoy part 2!

Nick puts his phone down and sighs, staring at the file on his desk.

“Damn it, kid,” he mutters. “You couldn’t have waited just a little longer…?”

He sighs and gets up, grabbing his jacket and going for the door. When he opens it, Ward is standing in front of the door, Buddy sitting in front of him. Nick pauses.

“Hi,” Ward says. “Nick? Something wrong?”

“…What’re you doing here, Grant?” he asks. Ward shrugs.

“I wanted to see if anything was going on,” he explains. “Everyone’s been busy today, so I thought it was a meeting or something. But you’re the only one here, so…”

Nick looks at the boy in front of him and considers.

“Ward,” he says, “this isn’t quite field, but I might have an assignment for you. Just the two of us.”

Ward perks up so fast that Nick swears he gets whiplash.

“Me? Really? Okay,” he says. “Yes sir. What do you need?”

“I need you to come out with me to Texas,” Nick says. “If you don’t mind.”

“No, not at all,” Ward says with an enormous grin. “What’s it for?”

“Oh, we’re picking someone up,” Nick says. “Somebody special. And I think she might like you.”

Ward furrows his brow. “I don’t know, sir. I’m not that good with girls. Victoria said.”

“Victoria’s a lesbian, she doesn’t get to tell you that,” Nick says. Ward laughs as Buddy trots after him. Nick turns and surveys the dog and Ward flinches.

“Sir, if you want me to come, I think we should bring Buddy,” he says. “Girls like dogs. I think.”

Nick exhales through his teeth. “I guess they do. Get his crate and meet me in the hangar. And don’t tell anyone where we’re going.”

Ward nods, trotting off with Buddy behind him, wagging his tail.

…

The dust on the ground scatters as the van drives over it, rattling and bumping every cluster of rocks on the poorly-paved road. The girl driving swears and makes a turn, going as slowly as she can without looking suspicious.

“Stupid,” she mutters. “I’m gonna have to find a place to park for the night.”

She checks the GPS. “But I’m not far enough away yet…”

She rubs her eyes and sighs, hitting the gas a little. “At least fifty more miles. Someplace they’ll never find me.”

She drives forward, her head down and a pair of sunglasses over her eyes, sitting on top of a stack of books to look a little taller as she makes her way down the highway.

She drives until a little sign comes up in her line of vision; she reads the sign and sighs in relief.

“Austin,” she says. “Okay. Cool. I can lose myself in Austin.”

She takes the next exit and drives into the city, making her way through the traffic until she reaches the outskirts of the town, turning onto a street that was populated exclusively by a diner, a dry cleaners, and an abandoned carpark. She sighs in relief; her van looked abandoned on the outside. No one would think she was living in there as long as she didn’t leave her lights on.

She pulls into the carpark, parks behind a beat-up, rusty Buick, and turns the car off, getting out of the driver’s seat and plunking herself down on a beanbag chair she’d picked up from a yard sale.

“Okay,” she says. “Great. So…we’re in Austin.”

She checks her GPS. “About two hundred miles away. It’ll take them time to come find me.”

She grins a little, guilty. “Especially since I stole the only car.”

She smiles and takes her blanket, snuggling into it. She’d stolen it from the last home that had given her up. The people didn’t like her, of course, but she didn’t care, because she’d gotten a nice warm blanket. That, she’ll keep.

She sighs and closes her eyes. She’s free now. She’s got no one to tell her what to do, no one to take her places she doesn’t want to be…she’s exactly where she wants to be. Doing what she wants to do.

And, she thinks, calling herself by the name she wants to be called.

“Skye,” she says to herself, curling her toes as she tucks her knees against her chest. “Skye, my name is Skye…”

She buries her head in her arms and closes her eyes, falling asleep with a little sigh of pleasure.

…

Ward gets off the plane with Nick, taking Buddy and clipping a leash onto his collar, the three of them making their way through the S.H.I.E.L.D. base as Nick meets with a short, stout woman.

“Agent Kyrie, you told me our girl had gotten away about sixteen hours ago,” Nick says. “Where is she now?”

“We haven’t gotten a strict bead on her, but we know she left St. Agnes’ and headed south,” she says. “This is the first major city you hit after leaving there from that direction. I think she’s here.”

“I think that’s likely,” Nick agrees, “but I need agents out looking for her. If you see her, don’t engage with her. Just tell me.”

She nods and salutes him. “Right.”

“Ward,” Nick says. “I want you to take Buddy for a walk. Go looking around. See if you can find our girl.”

“Huh? Sure,” Ward says. “What’s she look like?”

“Brown hair, brown eyes. Probably going to lie about her age, but she’s about five two,” Nick says. “This is a little old, but…”

He pulls a picture out of his pocket and hands it to Ward. “Something like this.”

Ward holds the picture in his hands carefully, turning it over and over as he looks at the girl pictured. He frowns. “Her eyes are so sad.”

“She’s a rough kid, Ward,” Nick warns him. “Be careful.”

Ward nods. “Okay. I will. I’ll call you if I see anything.”

“I know you will,” Nick says. “Go get her, Ward.”

Ward picks up Buddy’s leash and leaves base. Nick watches him go with a sigh.

“You’re sending a kid out to go find him?” Agent Kyrie asks, wrinkling her nose. Nick shakes his head.

“He’s not a kid,” he says. “He’s an agent, same as the rest of us. And he’s a good boy. She’ll find him. And he’ll do some good for her, if we’re lucky.”

…

Ward buys Buddy a water bottle and gets himself a Gatorade as he makes his way through the scorching city, wrinkling his nose.

“It’s so hot,” he mutters, drinking some of the Gatorade and stopping to proffer the water bottle to Buddy, who laps it up with a grateful whine. “And I don’t even know where we’re supposed to be looking, Buddy. Do you?”

Buddy shakes his head and whines. Ward sighs. “Yeah, I know. Let’s just keep going north until we reach the edge of town and then…I don’t know, walk back?”

He sighs. “This is a big city.”

Buddy nods an agreement as Ward wraps his leash around his hand and keeps walking. The two of them are quiet after that, Ward scanning the crowd for any signs of the girl. She looked so sad and soft that it made his heart ache. His feet hurt more, but the heart ache made them stronger, really. He wanted to find her.

“Let’s get something to eat, okay?” Ward says after a few hours of walking. “It’s time on my schedule.”

He frowns. “Ew. The only thing around is a diner.”

He sighs. It’s his only option, and he’s hungry. They’ll have a salad, maybe. Or a turkey burger, he can maybe have half of that. Then Buddy can have the other half, and that’ll work out just fine.

Ward nods, satisfied, and ties Buddy up outside, right in front of the big window. Buddy whines. Ward kisses his forehead.

“I won’t be long,” he says, “but I can’t bring you in there, boy. You’re in the shade out here, so you’ll be okay, I promise.”

Buddy noses him and wags his tail. Ward rubs his tummy. “Right. I love you.”

He gets up and enters the diner, taking a seat. The waitress that bring him a menu has big blue eyes and Ward smiles for a second before he gets embarrassed and looks away.

The doorbell rings above the door as Ward opens up his menu, and he doesn’t register that someone else has entered until a girl takes a seat directly across from him in the booth.

He puts his menu down and says nothing. Melinda’s taught him better than that; his surprise doesn’t register for even a split second.

“Hi,” the girl says. “We’re friends, okay? If anyone asks.”

“Sure,” Ward says. “And I’ve been waiting for you all day.”

“Yeah,” she agrees with a nod. “You’ve got the hang of this.”

“Sure do,” Ward says. “Ma’am, do you have turkey burgers, or…?”

Ward sighs in defeat as the waitress shakes her head. “Okay. Salad, please. And a coffee, black.”

“And your friend?” she asks. She grins, big and sharp.

“Cake,” she says. “Two slices, chocolate. And a cup of coffee.”

“Sweet tooth,” Ward remarks, wrinkling his nose as the waitress leaves. She rolls her eyes.

“Jesus, lay off,” she says. “I didn’t ask you to judge my food choices.”

“I’m not, it’s just a statement of fact,” Ward says with a shrug. “Besides, I know cake. They don’t look that good here.”

“Why would _you_ know cake? You ordered a salad!” she protests. Ward smiles.

“Because one of my uncles is still super bitter that he never finished culinary school,” he says, putting down his menu. “So, how come you decided we were going to be friends?”

“That’s your dog, right? He’s cute,” she says. “Anybody who brings a dog back here must be from out of town. Otherwise they’d just leave the dog inside on a day like this. So you’re visiting.”

“Yeah,” Ward says. “How about you? Are you visiting?”

“Kinda,” she says. “My name’s Skye.”

“Hi,” he says. “Grant Ward.”

Their coffees arrive, and Ward adds half a creamer cup to his before drinking it. Skye raises her eyebrows and dumps the rest into her coffee, along with six sugars. Ward makes a face.

“Not all of us drink our coffee like a cop, dude,” she says. Ward smiles.

“Okay, sorry,” he says. “You just like sweet stuff, huh?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Didn’t get to have it much before I moved.”

Ward nods. Her. It’s her, it has to be. She’s so small and slight…and her eyes. Her hair’s grown out a lot, and it’s a little more honey-colored now, but…those eyes stayed the same.

“Skye, hold on,” Ward says. “I want to go give Buddy some water.”

“Huh? Sure,” she says.

Ward gets up and leaves, taking out Buddy’s water bottle and tapping the comm in his ear.

“I found her,” he whispers in Chinese when he hears Nick’s comm go online. “We’re at 45 and 8th.”

“ _Right,”_ Nick replies. “ _I’ll be there in ten minutes._ _Keep her there, son. By any means.”_

Ward nods and pours water out into Buddy’s open mouth before he stands up and heads back inside.

“How old is he?” Skye asks. Ward shrugs.

“Errr…two?” he says. “Not old. I found him under a boardwalk.”

“A what?” Skye says. Ward shakes his head.

“Ah, sorry; boardwalk, like…a pier? A place where people put rides and games and things nearby the ocean.”

“Oh, so like…a fair on stilts,” Skye says. Ward nods.

“Yeah, kind of. That’s a neat way of explaining it,” he says. “I found him there and he’s been my best friend ever since. He’s a good dog, I promise.”

“I believe you,” Skye says. “He’s super patient.”

Ward nods. “Yeah. I’m going to bring him water in a few more minutes, I’m kind of worried.”

Skye looks up, her cake arriving along with Ward’s salad. She beams and cuts a piece with her fork, popping a bite into her mouth. Ward chews on the iceberg lettuce and sighs. Phil makes his salads with spinach and arugula and they’re amazing. This, not so much.

“The cake’s not bad,” Skye says. “You’re just super picky.”

“Well, yeah,” Ward agrees. “I am. Like I said, culinary school.”

“How come he couldn’t finish?” Skye asks.

Ward pauses for a beat. Ah, hell.

“Because…money,” Ward lies quickly. “That and his parents thought it was a super weird profession.”

“Oh,” Skye says. “Poor guy. Parents are stupid.”

“Parents _are_ stupid,” Ward agrees. Skye looks up and grins at him.

“You too?” she asks. Ward blinks.

“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Like, you too? You’re out here hiding from your parents too?” she says.

Ward pause and considers. “Err…not quite?”

He sighs and takes a bite of his salad. “It’s a long story. It’s kind of complicated and weird, too. But…to make it short, I got help escaping. And I know I’m safe now. My parents can’t get to me anymore.”

“Awesome,” Skye says. “I wish I could be like you.”

“You will be,” Ward promises. “I’m going to go give Buddy some water, okay? I’ll be right back.”

Ward gets up, and as he does, Nick walks in. He’s changed; his leather trenchcoat is gone, replaced by a simple collared shirt and pants. Ward raises an eyebrow as he walks past him.

“It’s hot out,” Nick says with a shrug. Ward and Nick share a grin as Nick sits down in front of Skye.

The utter _hatred_ in her eyes makes him pause for a second. He holds his hands up.

“Cake, huh?” he says. “Looks all right. I’ve seen better.”

He shrugs. “I’ll pick up the check. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

“Who the hell are you?” Skye snarls. Nick shrugs.

“Director Fury,” he says. “I run S.H.I.E.L.D. on my off days.”

“Look, if you’re with the cops, I’ll scream,” Skye says.

“Jesus, I’m not with the cops,” Nick says, laughing a little despite himself. “Don’t worry about it. You and I share a pretty similar disdain for the cops on that front.”

Ward comes back in and sits down. Skye glares at him. “Do you know this guy?”

“Do you remember when I said that people helped me escape my parents?” Ward says. “He’s one of him. You can trust him, Skye. He saved me. He’ll help you too, okay?”

Skye glares balefully at Nick. Nick shrugs.

“I heard you skipped town on your orphanage,” he says. Skye stands up, her eyes blazing. Her hands are fists, sharp and hard.

“If you’re a fucking social worker, I’ll—“

“No,” Nick says. “Not a social worker. Not a cop. I told you. Director Nicholas Justice Fury.”

Ward and Skye both stop and look at him.

“Justice? Really?” Ward says. Nick smiles.

“My mother,” he says. “She was…one of a kind. To put it mildly. But that’s not the point—I’m here with an entirely different kind of offer, Skye. You don’t have to go back to the orphanage. But we’d like to give you a home.”

“Fuck homes,” Skye spits. “Fuck ‘em. Every last one of ‘em. I hope every stupid house I got put in burns the fuck _down._ ”

 _“_ I know that feeling,” Ward says, a tiny smile flitting across his lips. “Skye, he doesn’t mean a home like what you’re thinking. He means…”

Ward pauses. What was home for him? What was his home?

“He means a lot of people, and a lot of food,” he says. “And things are going to be loud and weird, and kind of crazy, but…everyone comes home for dinner and a chance to talk. And it’s amazing. I promise. It’s the best thing in the whole world.”

Skye says nothing. Nick regards Ward, and he can’t read the expression in his single eye very well, but he shrugs and continues nonetheless.

“Also, a dog,” he says. “And you liked Buddy, right?”

“I don’t want to go,” Skye says. “I always have to leave. I hate leaving. I don’t want to go anywhere anymore.”

“You’re not going to leave,” Ward promises. “What’s the longest you’ve ever stayed at a home, Skye?”

“Four months,” she says. Ward nods.

“I’ve been with them for…almost two years now,” he says. “And I’m not going anywhere. Neither will you. Don’t be scared.”

Skye nods. She falls silent, taking a few bites of her cake. Ward waits until she finishes the slice.

“Okay,” she says. “I’ll go. For you. And the dog.”

“Awesome,” Ward says, a huge grin on his face. “Come on, Skye.”

“Skye?” Nick says, raising his eyebrows. She turns to him and gives him a sharp look.

“Yeah,” she says. “Skye.”

“All right,” Nick agrees. “Sure. Let me just pick up the check. You two go get the dog.”

They leave the diner and Nick sighs as he watches them go. Something has come unstuck in his chest and it’s making his emotions waver, but he can’t quite pinpoint it.

He hands the waitress a fifty and follows after the kids. The feeling gets a little lighter when he does.

…………………………                                                                                                       

Skye doesn’t say much to Ward as he sits down on the plane next to Buddy’s crate. She hasn’t spoken at all since they got her things from her van and let her settle down. Ward doesn’t push. When John and Victoria came and picked him up from prison, he wasn’t really chatty either.

The entire four-hour plane ride, Skye is silent, flipping through a book someone left behind in the plane. He just reads his own book; Melinda had gotten him a copy of _Cat’s Cradle_ and asked him to read it.

The plane touches down on base and Skye looks out the window, eyebrows lifting for a split second before she frowns and hugs herself.

“Promise they won’t make me leave?” Skye says. Ward nods.

“If they do, I’ll go with you,” he promises. “Don’t be scared. I’m here.”

She looks nothing like Rose. Rose was tiny and slight and her face was always pale with illness, and her hair was soft and curly and blonde, like their mother’s. But her voice was just as small and fearful then, and Ward reaches out to stroke her hair without thinking.

Skye flinches and Ward pulls his hand away. She shakes her head. “Sorry. No, it’s okay. Please do that again.”

Ward nods, stroking her hair until Nick comes back to help Ward with Buddy’s crate, the four of them getting off the plane.

Phil is waiting at the bottom of the ramp, arms over his chest until he sees Nick. His whole body relaxes and he beams.

“Hi,” he breathes, relief plain and open on his face. “Nick, I’m so glad you’re back.”

“Came back with a friend,” Nick says. “Phil, this is Skye.”

Phil meets eyes with the little girl and nods, his throat tightening.

“How old is she, exactly?” he asks. Nick sighs.

“Fourteen,” he says.

“Almost fifteen,” Skye cuts in. Ward tries not to smile.

“You just had your fourteenth birthday,” Nick says. “I have your file, kiddo.”

Skye makes a face at him. Phil smiles.

“It’s okay,” he says. “Hi, Skye. It’s wonderful to meet you. Come on, let’s get you settled. We’ll find you a bedroom and you can have a shower before dinner, if you want.”

“What’s for dinner?” Skye asks, her gaze wary as she clutches her things close to her chest. Phil hums.

“Mm, nothing fancy. Puttanesca and salad and some bread I baked this morning. Ice cream for dessert, probably,” Phil says.

Skye’s eyes light up. “Awesome. I don’t even know what that first thing was, but, awesome.”

Phil’s grin is huge and hopeful. “Come on, let’s get you settled, and after dinner you can have the grand tour; I’ve got a ton of Captain America things I think you’d like to see…”

He takes Skye from Nick and herds her off, chattering the entire way into the base. Nick stares at the two of them, silent.

“I think you just made a huge mistake, sir,” Ward says.

“Yeah. Me too,” Nick agrees.

…

“So,” John says later that night, coming into Ward’s room and having a seat. “Skye.”

“Huh? Yeah,” Ward says. “I brought her home with Nick. That’s where we were today. Did I worry you?”

“Nah, Nick let us know that he was taking you someplace. It’s no big deal,” John says. “You like Skye a lot?”

“Well, I mean…she’s like me, kind of. She’s had to deal with a lot. And…I’m glad she’s here. But for her sake, you know?” Ward explains. “She’s going to do so much better here than in Texas by herself. We’ll take good care of her.”

“Phil’s pretty much unofficially adopted her already,” John agrees. “He loves you to bits, but he’s always wanted a baby girl.”

“I noticed,” Ward says with a grin. “I didn’t take it personally. Like you said, he wants a baby. I’m not a baby.”

“No,” John agrees. “You’re growing up.”

“John, it’s okay,” Ward says. “I’m only seventeen.”

John closes his eyes and basks in those words for a second.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “You’ve got a lot of time to do things, huh?”

“I do,” Ward agrees. “Thank you. You helped me see that, you know.”

John nods. “Right. I try.”

He sighs. “So. SpecOps next year, and you’re not worried?”

“Nah,” Ward says. “I’ll have Trip and Sharon with me in a year or so…and, I mean—you’re not going to make me leave, right? I’ll still be here. I’ll be safe, I’ll have a home. So…so I’m not scared.”

John shakes his head. “No, kiddo. Of course we’re not making you leave. You’re always going to be here. And you’ll always have a home. It’s okay.”

Ward nods and smiles. “Okay. Then…I’m not worried. But I am tired. Goodnight?”

“Goodnight, Grant,” John says, getting up. “You’re gonna be just fine. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Mmkay,” Ward agrees, a slurred little mumble. “Dad?”

John pauses at the door, dead silent. He heard him wrong. He absolutely, definitely heard him wrong.

“Grant?” he says.

He turns around. Nothing. Ward’s already fallen asleep.

John sighs and nods, leaving the room, closing the door gently behind him.

…

Ward rolls over in bed the next morning to find Skye sitting on top of it, rubbing behind Buddy’s ears.

“Hi,” she says. “What’s up?”

“Why are you in my room?” Ward asks. Skye shrugs.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she says. “Breakfast?”

“This is when I normally get up anyway,” Ward says with a yawn. “You’ll start getting used to it too. Don’t worry.”

“Ew,” Skye says. “I don’t want to, trust me.”

“It sounds hard now, but you’ll adjust,” Ward promises. “Come on, let’s go. Buddy!”

He follows after Ward with an eager little yip, his nails clicking on the floor as Ward makes his way down the hall, Skye following after.

“What do you do for breakfast?” she asks. Ward shrugs.

“Smoothie sometimes. Mostly an egg white omelet and some turkey bacon. Nothing fancy. Are you okay with that?”

“Sure, whatever, it’s food,” she says, bounding into the rec room. “Oh, hey, morning Fee.”

“Morning,” Felix says, not even looking up from the newspaper in surprise. “Ward, you sound tired.”

“It’s Skye,” she says with a grin. “You sure you don’t need more sleep?”

“We have to be in Monaco in fifteen minutes, so, no,” Felix says. “Ward, you’re in charge of Trip and Sharon for the weekend. And, well, Skye I suppose.”

“What?” Ward says. “Whoa, wait, hold on…”

“It’s an emergency, we all need to be there,” Felix says. “You’ll do just fine, call us if there’s any trouble, and don’t set fire to anything. Be safe.”

He kisses both their foreheads, grabs the coffee machine, and leaves the room. Ward just stares.

“Fuck,” Skye says. “No parents? Already? Dang.”

“Since when…what…god damn it,” Ward mutters. “They’ve never _all_ gone out for an emergency. Must be big.”

“Yeah, probably, whatever,” Skye says. “Can we eat now?”

He sighs and starts up the stove.

Skye yawns and plays with the napkins, folding them up into origami as Ward makes four omelets; sure enough, Trip and Sharon are in the rec room by the time he’s finished breakfast completely, yawning widely.

“Oh, hey, this is Phil’s new kid,” Trip says. “Hey. What’s up?”

“Hi,” she says. “I’m not his kid. I’m just Skye. I’m not anybody’s kid.”

Trip looks at Ward. Ward mouths ‘foster homes’ at him and Trip nods, taking a seat.

“Sorry, my mistake,” he says. “You’ve got too much hair to be Phil’s kid.”

All three of them start to giggle. Skye wrinkles her nose, but shrugs and goes back to her napkins.

“Breakfast,” Ward cuts in, setting plates down in front of all of them. “Eat something, Skye, you need it. Trip, Sharon, you get the news?”

“Yeah, the team’s out of the country for the weekend,” Sharon says. “Wonder why. Tori wasn’t forthcoming, and they usually at least tell us what they’re up to.”

“Fee said Monaco, but Monaco’s their excuse every time,” Ward replies. “I just wonder why _all_ of them had to go, you know? It’s super weird. Someone always stays behind to watch us.”

“Yeah, it is,” Sharon agrees. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Or at least, it’s nothing we’re allowed to be privy to yet.”

“Ugh, right,” Ward says. “It’s okay. Skye? Sorry, we’re kind of leaving you out.”

“Huh? Whatever,” she says. “I’m just playing a game. You talk about your weird spy stuff.”

“No, no, it’s not fair to you…” Ward hedges. “Hm. We have a whole weekend, and I was going through the fridge; Phil left a ton of snacks and stuff for you guys to eat. And we have movies. So…since it’s the weekend and we don’t have classes anyway, I guess we can just sort of hang out in here and watch movies?”

“Sounds awesome,” Trip says with a wide grin. “You look like you’re about to say something to ruin it, though.”

“Well, I have to go exercise still,” Ward says.

“You need a rest day though,” Sharon reminds him. “You only really gain anything from exercise on your rest days.”

“Right, okay, fine, but not today, it’s only Friday,” Ward says. “Sunday. Promise. And I’ll still be here the other two days when I’m not working. The team put me in charge, and I’m not going to screw that up.”

“Fine, but if you don’t come in here and sit down and watch a movie at least once a day, Trip and I are gonna pull you out of the gym,” Sharon says. “I mean it.”

“I believe you,” Ward says with a smile. “Let me get you guys set up on the couch now. Do you want anything on before I go do my morning routine?”

“We’ll pick something out,” Sharon promises as Ward finishes his breakfast and gets up, pulling out the pull-out couch and settling the sheets and a blanket over it.

“There,” he says. “You guys can get settled on that. It’ll be comfortable. And you’ll be just fine. Call me the second there’s trouble, okay? I’ll come running, I promise.”

“We believe you,” Sharon promises, getting up and pressing a kiss into his forehead. “We’ll be just fine, Ward.”

“You’re coming back?” Skye says. Ward turns to her and meets her eyes.

“I promise,” he says. “Routine exercise and endurance training. I’ll be back in an hour.”

He pauses. “Buddy. You stay with Skye today, okay?”

Buddy trots over to her and plunks himself down in front of her, his mouth hanging open and his eyes hopeful for a few kisses. Skye kisses his wet nose and rubs behind his ears as Ward sighs.

“So…I gave Buddy to you for the hour so you know I’ll come back,” he says. “Don’t worry, okay? No one’s going to leave here.”

“The grown ups already left,” Skye mumbles. Ward nods.

“Right, but they’re grown ups, they do that sometimes,” he says. “They’ll come back. They’re the good kind. And we’ll be here until they do, okay?”

She nods wordlessly and hugs Buddy tight. Ward turns to leave.

“Thank you for Buddy, Ward,” she says just as he reaches the threshold. He turns around and smiles.

“Sure thing,” he says. “Have fun with Trip and Sharon, Skye.”

She nods wordlessly and lets Ward leave the room, closing the door behind him. Skye gets up and crawls under the blanket on the pull out couch, pressing herself into the nest of pillows. She curls her toes against the soft sheet and blanket and closes her eyes.

“So,” Trip says, taking a seat next to her. “ _Bring it On?”_

“Huh?” Skye says. Trip grins.

“It’s a movie about cheerleaders,” he says. “Cool stuff, y’know. Sharon and I like it. You’ve never seen it?”

“There were like, six movies that were approved by the orphanage,” Skye says. “And that was definitely not one of them.”

“Awesome, then we’re watching it,” Trip says. “You’re gonna love it, Skye. Promise.”

She nods. “Thanks…?”

Sharon pops the tape in and Trip hands her a bowl of popcorn. “Here. We try not to eat too much junk while Ward’s around, it makes him nervous.”

“What’s up with him? He was like that at the diner, too,” Skye says, wrinkling her nose.

“He’s bulimic,” Sharon says as she rewinds the tape and gets up. Skye’s jaw drops. Trip gives her a sharp look.

“Sharon, you don’t have to be so blunt about it, Jesus,” he says. “She’s right, but don’t bring it up, okay? He’s getting better. He’s had a good few years with us.”

“No, I won’t,” Skye promises. “Holy shit. Oh my god. Poor guy…”

“We take good care of him,” Trip says, his tone firm. “He’s just fine. It’s just something we have to watch out for when we’re eating. And someone has to keep an eye on him after big meals, mostly.”

“He’s going to be okay after breakfast?” Skye asks. Trip nods.

“Yeah, yeah. That’s not something he worries about much. It’s dinner you really have to watch him on,” he says. “He’s okay, Skye. Don’t worry.”

She nods and closes her eyes as the movie finally starts.

…

Ward comes back in an hour to the three of them doing cheer routines in the rec room and just walks past them with a smile, going for the fridge and pulling out the can of meal-replacement shake that he’d saved. He grabs a head of romaine and puts it on the cutting board next to some spinach leaves, chopping the head up for a small salad.

Buddy perks his head up and barks in delight at the sight of his boy, jumping off the couch and trotting over to him, wagging his tail and nosing at Ward’s hip. Ward rubs his back.

“Hi, Buddy,” he says. “Hi, boy. How’re you? Did you take good care of Skye?”

Buddy barks an agreement. Skye perks up and turns around.

“Hi, Ward,” she says. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” he replies. “I’m done. Just having some lunch. Schedule.”

“Ah, okay,” Skye says. “Cool. Are you gonna watch another movie with us? This one’s almost over.”

“I’ll come watch, but I’ve got a few things to look over,” Ward says, stretching and yawning. “Cool stuff, you know. SpecOps stuff.”

“Ooh,” Sharon teases. “You’re so excited, aren’t you?”

“It’s going to be amazing,” Ward says. “I’m excited, Sharon, why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’ve still got months to go,” she says. “And SpecOps is going to start you off basic. John won’t let you skip ahead. Mostly because he’s worried and he doesn’t want his kid getting into trouble.”

“I’m not a kid,” Ward says, heaving a sigh. “But I know. Even so, it’s still…you know. It’s something.”

“Yeah,” Sharon replies. “I know, Ward. Come sit, at least.”

He picks up his language textbooks and his shake, balancing the plate of salad before he takes a seat on the couch.

“What next?” Trip says. “C’mon, Ward, you pick.”

“Huh? I don’t care,” he says. “Whatever makes you happy.”

“ _Romeo+Juliet_ it is,” Sharon says, getting up and rifling through the library of tapes.

Ward settles in and tunes the movie out, mostly, as the trio watch. Buddy lays his head on his lap as he works on his conjugations.

…

“So, when were we going to be informed that S.H.I.E.L.D. had found an alien?” Melinda says, her voice pleasant and calm. Nick holds his hands up.

“Okay, first off, don’t talk to me like that, I know that tone. That’s the ‘you’ve got five seconds before I snap your neck’ tone,” Nick says. “Look. I didn’t do this on purpose. I legitimately thought we’d have a good handle on her until she was eighteen. Then I’d come to her with an offer to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and since she’d be an adult, we could try to work out whatever the hell she is with her express consent.”

“That went well,” Victoria says. Nick glares at her.

“So now we have approximately four years until we can run any kind of tests on her, because she’s still technically a ward of the state, and S.H.I.E.L.D. can’t say otherwise without showing its ass,” Jasper says. “Awesome.”

“Don’t you start,” Nick grumbles. “If she was so miserable in the orphanage that she felt like stealing a car and booking it to fucking Austin, Texas, was a better option, then I did the right thing going and getting her. At least now we know where she is and she’s being taken care of by us! God forbid the kid turn out to be a ticking time bomb, but at least we can handle it!”

“He’s got a point,” John defends him. “The last time we went and gay adopted a kid who’d stolen a car it worked out great for us.”

“Stop calling it gay adopting, it’s just regular adoption,” Phil grumbles.

“You should talk,” John says. “You’re about five seconds away from buying Skye matching tee shirts with you and Nick.”

“Don’t give him ideas,” Nick sighs. “The point is, John’s right. We already have Ward, we might as well just…get another kid. Especially since leaving her in the orphanage is not an option.”

“Over my dead body,” Phil agrees.

“How does it feel being a dad, Nick?” Victoria says, filing her nails.

“Shut up, Tori,” he replies. “Look. We came here to deal with this by ourselves in private and give the kids a break. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell any of you about the 0-8-4. I legitimately thought I’d have a few years, and I was under strict orders from Director Carter and the World Security Council not to spill my guts about it. Even to you.”

“Peggy knew?” Felix says, brows raised. Nick sighs.

“Yeah, she did. It was back in ’93. A little after we joined. I was only let in on the whole thing because I was going to be Director, and they wanted me to keep an eye on her when she was gone.”

“This all feels really fucking shady,” Victoria says. “Is she going to be okay?”

“We’ll make sure of it,” Melinda says, her voice quiet and calm. “But someone should explain it to her.”

“What? That she’s an alien we don’t know the origin of and we can’t find out yet?” Nick says.

“No. That she wasn’t abandoned,” Melinda says. “That we were looking after her. She doesn’t need to know why. But she should know she had someone watching over her. Even when she felt like she had nothing. That changes people, Nick, and you know it. She deserves to know she was loved.”

The whole room is quiet. Phil’s eyes are wet with tears. Nick sighs.

“We can’t…legally…adopt,” he says. “I mean it, it’s literally illegal for the two of us to—“

“I just want her to be happy _so much,”_ Phil bawls. Nick exhales through his nose, slow and resigned.

“I know, baby,” he says. “It’s fine, we’ll fix this, please don’t cry. It’s fine, it’s fine…”

He looks at his team. “Fine. We’ll tell her. But not yet. I want to do it properly. Fucking up helps no one; certainly not her.”

“Fair,” Melinda agrees. “But we do it when we get back.”

“Do we let the kids know?” John asks. Nick nods.

“As much as she does. No one else needs to know she’s an alien yet. But the kids deserve to know she was looked after by S.H.I.E.L.D., same as them. It’ll help, I think. Common ground and all that.”

“Fine,” John says. “Not that eager to lie to the kid about being an 0-8-4, though.”

“It’s not going to help her, or anyone,” Nick says. “It’ll just make her feel uncomfortable and hunted. We’re trying to protect her, not make her feel like she’s an experiment. Or an animal. Once she knows we care about her, she’ll understand. We can talk to her when she’s ready. But not a second before.”

The team nods. Nick stands up and sighs, adjusting his coat. “With that settled, we can actually have a day off, then. Stay here and finish up the weekend. No reason for the kids to question why we came back early.”

“Right,” John agrees. “Still, if that’s the case, we should at least check in.”

“There’s a phone at the hotel,” Nick says. John nods, and the team follows after Nick as he gets in the car.

…

Ward gets up at the sound of the ringing phone, lifting it to his ear and sighing. “Oh, thank god. Hi, John.”

“ _Hey, kiddo. You doing okay?”_

“Yeah, the kids are watching a movie,” Ward says. “All this television is going to ooze out my ears soon. But they’re having fun, so I don’t mind.”

“You’re a kid too, dork,” Skye says, smacking his arm. Ward inches away from her, twirling the cord of the phone around his finger.

“Yeah, I know, she’s being a brat. But she’s settling in super well,” he says. Skye sticks her tongue out at him and he smiles. “She says hi.”

“ _Hey, Skye.”_

She waves at the phone as John says, “ _You got your routines done, kiddo?”_

“All done for the day. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so—“

“Rest day,” Trip, Sharon, and John all chime. Ward sighs.

“Yeah, I know,” he says. “But I have to eat right still. Don’t act like I can just eat a whole cake or whatever.”

“ _Okay, kiddo. But don’t you dare hit the gym. For us, okay?”_

“Okay, I promise,” Ward agrees. “I miss you. When are you coming home?”

“ _Tomorrow night, okay? You want to stay up and wait, guys?”_

“Please,” Ward says as the rest of the group nods. “Miss you. Be safe, okay? Clear the room and check for bombs. And stuff.”

“ _Of course, of course. Nick’s with all of us, nothing’s going to happen. Don’t be scared, okay? We’ve got a handle on it.”_

“Okay,” Ward says. “Good to know. I…I’ll see you when you get back?”

 _“Sure you will,”_ John promises. “ _Be safe. Don’t forget to eat. I miss you too, okay kiddo?”_

“Okay,” Ward says with a little smile. “Bye, John. Be safe.”

John promises him one more time and hangs up. Ward gets up and sets the phone back in its cradle with a sigh.

“Who’s John?” Skye asks. “He’s like, your dad or something?”

Trip and Sharon glance at each other. Ward sighs.

“No,” he says. “But…I mean, I wish.”

Skye nods, laying her head on his shoulder. “Hey. You don’t have to tell me twice. I know that feeling, Ward.”

“Okay,” Ward mumbles. “Thanks.”

He checks the clock and frowns. “One more movie and bed.”

The whole group whines. Ward crosses his arms. “Nope. One more movie. Especially since we’re waiting up tomorrow.”

“Are we sleeping in here?” Sharon asks. Ward looks at Skye.

“Would you like that?” he asks her. She pauses and blinks before she nods.

“Please,” she says. “That’d be nice.”

“Then yes, we are,” Ward says. “Hold on. Put in the last movie, I’m going to go take Buddy out real quick.”

He gets up off the couch, Buddy following after him as he takes his leash and heads for the door. Skye watches him leave before she looks at Trip and Sharon.

“So…what’s up with him and the whole thing with dads?” she says.

They look at each other and shrug. “Honestly? We don’t…really know. He doesn’t really talk about it much. And John only says he picked Ward up from prison after…well, something bad happened at home.”

“Jesus, did he kill somebody?” Skye says. Sharon shrugs.

“Don’t know. John wouldn’t say. Ward wouldn’t either, obviously. We’re ‘babies.’ It’s not our problem,” she says, wrinkling her nose. “He can be so obtuse about that stuff. He’s just trying to protect us, but…y’know.”

She pauses for a beat. “The only thing I know is, one time late at night, I was getting up for a snack and he was going to bed. He looked at me and he got scared.”

Sharon frowns, twirling a strand of hair around her finger as she recalls the memory. “He called me Rosie and asked me what I was doing out of bed.”

Skye gets quiet. Ward comes back with Buddy in tow, and he looks at all of them.

“Something wrong?” he asks. “All of you look worried.”

“No, just worried about everyone coming home,” Trip lies smoothly. “It’s okay. Come sit, we’re gonna watch _The Breakfast Club._ Skye’s never seen it!”

Ward settles back in, Buddy laying his head down on his lap. He looks up at Skye and Skye meets his eyes. Buddy whines quietly.

She pets his head and sighs, focusing all her attention on the movie.

…

Ward makes them turn the movie off and tuck in after that, and Skye ends up snuggled between him and Trip, Sharon spread out across their curled up bodies. She leans her head on his shoulder and listens to his heartbeat.

“Dana,” Ward breathes in his sleep, slow and soft. “Dana…?”

Skye stirs and mumbles something. Ward stops.

He hugs her a little tighter in his sleep and Skye just curls closer, laying her head on his shoulder.

“Love you,” Ward mumbles into her hair. “Dana, love.”

Skye sleeps through it.

The next morning, Ward wakes up to a fuzzy mouth and Buddy licking the side of his face, wagging his tail and nosing at his side. Ward rubs his stomach and scratches behind his ears.

“Hi, pup,” Ward says. “Morning, morning. I’m getting breakfast, one second…”

He gets up and settles himself down at the kitchen counter, chopping away at some broccoli for a broccoli and egg white omelet. Buddy flops down at his feet with a little whine, nosing at his ankles as Skye, Trip, and Sharon start to stir.

“Morning,” Skye mumbles. “What’s the plan for today?”

“Not much,” Ward says. “We can just talk. Play some board games and leave the television on. Sound okay?”

“Sounds awesome,” Skye says. Buddy gets up from his spot near Ward’s feet to come kiss her, his tail wagging as he nuzzles her. Skye hugs him tight and rubs his back.

“Never had a dog,” she says with a smile. “Wow. You’re such a pretty puppy. Hi, puppy.”

“No pets? Really?” Trip says. Skye shrugs.

“Well, the orphanage had a fish tank,” she says. “But it’s not the same at all. Is it, pup?”

Buddy yips and nuzzles her. Skye kisses him back, letting him flop down on top of her lap as Sharon gets up to put the television on and Ward finishes up breakfast.

“Don’t worry about John,” Trip says. “I can see it all over your face, Ward. He’s going to be just fine.”

“I just don’t like them being out someplace I don’t know,” Ward grumbles. “That’s all. It’s worrying, okay?”

“Of course,” Trip says. “But they’re fine, promise. John wouldn’t want you to worry.”

“Well, I’m gonna,” Ward grumbles, setting plates down at the table. “Eat here, we’re not going to get food on the couch.”

“Ugh,” the trio grumbles, but they get up and settle in, giving him a look before pointedly slowly eating breakfast. Ward just sips his water and hides a smile.

…

He spends the day in a daze; Buddy sleeps on top of him for most of it, and he reads some more of _Cat’s Cradle_ while the television drones on in the background. Skye and Sharon and Trip start playing Candyland; they talk him into playing the second round and he wins. Trip brings out a deck of cards and they’re in the middle of playing blackjack when Ward gets up and makes lunch, then a game of poker is interrupted by dinner.

Ward is falling asleep on the couch by the time the door opens and all four of them sit up. Buddy barks, getting off the couch and gamboling over to John, jumping around his feet and wagging his tail in welcome. Ward rubs at his eyes and beams as John approaches him, smoothing his hair from his forehead.

“Hi,” he says. “I took care of everyone. I missed you.”

“We missed you too, kiddo,” John says, his voice fond and quiet. “Good to be back.”

“Mm,” Ward agrees. “I’m tired.”

“Sleep,” he promises. “We’re here now. You get some sleep. You did so well this weekend. Just get some rest, Ward, and tomorrow will be better.”

Ward says something to him, but he doesn’t remember it; his mind is already half-fuzzy with sleep, and he sighs and mumbles, content. He feels someone settle in next to him and he rolls over to snuggle closer.

John rubs his back until he falls asleep, and Ward’s fingers make a tight grip in his shirt. He strokes hair away from Ward’s forehead before falling asleep himself with a long drawn out sigh.

…

The next morning, Skye is the first to wake up. She puts some coffee on and rifles through the cabinets, taking whatever she can find that she can open and eat easily before she sits down at the table, chewing on all of it, indiscriminately picking at whatever she finds. She sits at the table and eats quietly as the coffee brews.

“Morning, kiddo,” Nick says, taking a seat across from her. Skye jumps, one of her arms lashing out and pulling the food closer to her.

“I didn’t see you were awake,” she says after a heavy swallow. Nick shrugs.

“Don’t worry about it. Should be up anyway,” he says. “I wanted to talk to you about something, Skye.”

“Don’t take the food,” she says. “Look, I’m sorry—“

“It’s fine, Phil’s going to be relieved someone else appreciates the things he makes,” Nick says, his voice calm and placid. “You’re okay. I’m just asking about…well. All the places you’ve been.”

“All the foster homes? Fuck them,” Skye spits. “I hated them. No one wanted me. Fucking nobody. And—and I didn’t want them either, so it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter a damn bit. I hate them. I hate them. I hate, I…”

“Hey,” Nick says, his voice gentle. “What if I told you that wasn’t true?”

“Why would _you_ know?” Skye demands.

“Because…when you were a little girl,” Nick says, pausing for a moment. “…Bad people tried to get ahold of you. And so S.H.I.E.L.D. protected you.”

“You protected me?” Skye says, her eyebrows raised.

“Well, not me specifically,” Nick amends. “Director Carter was the one who gave the orders then. I wasn’t Director yet. But…yes. We protected you. That’s what S.H.I.E.L.D.’s about, Skye. And so we protected you. All those people who had you in homes for two, three months…that was all they could manage. It was the only way to keep you safe. If you moved around constantly, the people who tried to hurt you as a baby wouldn’t ever find you.”

Skye stares at him for a long few minutes, silent. Nick doesn’t say anything. He lets her stare at him with huge, bright hazel eyes.

“All of them,” she says. “All of them. Agents?”

“Some,” Nick says. “Some were families of agents who were told they needed to foster a little girl for a few months. Most agreed immediately. Because they wanted to help protect you. You were always loved, Skye. Just…not for long.”

Skye blinks harshly a few times. Nick looks away to let her cry.

“All of them?” she says. “All of them loved me?”

“Every single one,” Nick promises. “But they couldn’t keep you. It would’ve put you in danger. So they let you go to keep you safe. And sometimes, that’s the best kind of love there is, Skye. Or at least the only kind a person can give.”

Skye sobs, big and wet and chest-shaking. Nick crosses the table and pulls her chair back for her, helping her up and out of the room so she can cry in peace and quiet somewhere else.

When the rest of the team wakes up, things are quiet; Skye’s poured the coffee out into cups already and Nick is setting down plates for breakfast.

It’s a quiet morning with a lot of half-mumbled conversation, but everyone’s together now. That’s all that matters.

…

“Two months away,” Melinda says one day, sitting down next to John on the ride home. “You worried?”

“No,” John says.

She waits.

“I almost want to tell him no,” John sighs. “I do, and I’m not proud of it. I know this is what he’s worked for. But—but god, he’s a baby. He’s still a baby, Melinda. I don’t…”

“Most people don’t graduate SpecOps as full operatives until they’re in their mid twenties,” she says. “We didn’t. And two of us started at seventeen, not eighteen.”

“More willing to fudge the rules, yeah,” John says. “And you don’t count, you had training from Fenghuang already.”

“Right,” she says. “My point is, he won’t be ready to go on missions like this until he’s twenty-five. Or later, even. Who knows? And I’m sure Nick isn’t going to throw him onto a suicide mission. He’s our boy. None of us want him to die, John.”

“I just—“

“I know,” she says. “I know what you’re worried about. But you have to trust that we love him too, okay? That none of us want him going anywhere. Not for any reason.”

“I know, but…”

John bites his lip. “Damn it. I’m sorry. I get it. But I’m scared for him, Mel. I’m so fucking scared.”

“I know you are,” she says, her voice quiet. “We are too. None of us are going to let him go out into dangerous situations without backup. We love him just as much as you do. And we’re going to train him right, so he’s strong, and brave, and knows when to take the shot and when to take cover. We’re going to make him into the man you promised he’d be when you met him.”

“Vic told you about that?” John says, his voice fond. “Of course she did. Why am I even asking?”

“You were good to him,” Melinda says. “You were the first person who was ever kind to him, John. Never forget that. He won’t.”

John closes his eyes. “I know. Jesus. He’s a baby, Mel. I don’t want him to hurt.”

“He’s already been hurt,” Melinda says. “But he’ll be strong. He’s already changed so much; gotten so much stronger. He’ll be just fine, John. Because of everything we did, he’s going to be just fine.”

John nods, wordless. The two of them sit in silence for a few minutes.

“Fuck, Mel,” John says with a sigh. “Why do you always know the best things to say?”

“Because I know you all too well,” Melinda says with a shrug. “Besides, you think I don’t care about him too?”

“No, you do,” John admits. “He’s going to slip up someday and call either you or Victoria mom. She bet that it was you. I bet it’s her, though, since she did help me bust him out and all.”

Melinda stares at him, openmouthed. John shrugs.

“If she’s right, you guys get a hundred bucks, so…”

She punches him in the arm and he whines for the rest of the ride home. Melinda just grumbles and gives Victoria a look when they get on the plane for base.

“What? What did I do?” Victoria says as Melinda resolutely ignores her.

“You? Nothing. I told her about the bet,” John says.

“Oh my fucking god, you’re an asshole,” Victoria sighs, getting in the plane and grumbling. John just grins sheepishly, settling in.

…

Ward sits down in front of the training bag and stares at it, his knuckles already tense in anticipation. He doesn’t land a single punch, though.

“Something wrong, kiddo?” John says. Ward starts and turns around.

“Oh, uh. Hi,” he says. “I didn’t hear you come in, John.”

“Don’t worry about it,” John says with a shrug. “Just came in to see you, that’s all. How are you, puppy?”

“I…I don’t know,” Ward admits. “John? Can I talk to you?”

“Sure,” John says, taking a seat on the bench. “Come here, tell me what’s the problem.”

Ward stands up, and before John can say anything, he’s stripped his shirt off and thrown it aside. John blinks and stares.

“Uh,” he manages. Oh god. Melinda would punch him if she was here. He’d deserve it, too.

“I don’t know about this,” Ward says, gesturing to his body in thinly veiled disgust. “I hate this. I don’t…I mean, look at it.”

“I am,” John says. “I mean, you took your shirt off, so.”

“I don’t see abs,” Ward says, indignant. “I don’t see anything that you have or that any of the other field agents have. I hate this. I look _wrong.”_

“Baby— _Ward,_ hey. Look. You’re not supposed to have a sculpted chest at _seventeen,_ kiddo,” John says. “You’re way too young. You’re doing just fine. You’re a kid still. You’re doing great for your age, and you’re staying healthy.”

“But I don’t look _ready,”_ Ward says. “John? Am I really ready for SpecOps?”

John goes quiet.

He could say no. He could do it right now and make Ward wait another few years, if he was lucky. He could tell him he was a baby and that he wasn’t ready and that he needed to stay safe and sound in the rec room for the rest of his life, where John could keep an eye on him.

“You’ve worked so hard for this,” John says, his voice tinged with regret. “Oh, Grant. You’re going to do just fine. I promise. You haven’t even joined yet. You don’t know what they’ll want from you. But if Vic and I can get through it, shit. So can you. Okay?”

“I’m scared,” Ward says. “I know—I know the drop rate. I want to be good enough. Please, John, I want to be good enough.”

“I know you do,” John says, his voice quiet and soft. “I know you do. Don’t worry. You are. As far as the people who matter are concerned, you are.”

Ward nods, but there’s still something drawn and worn to his features as he gets up and stands in front of the bag, working it over. John watches him with a sigh and rubs his temples.

He has to do something. But Jesus, he doesn’t even know what something would amount to anymore. How is he going to do this?

Ward finishes after an hour, picking his things up and putting his shirt back on.

“Thank you,” he says quietly. “I know you’re scared for me. I know it’s hard for you to talk about this. But it’s going to be okay. Okay?”

“Okay,” John says, shaking his head. “Okay, kiddo.”

“Not a kid,” Ward says with a smile, leaving the gym. John sighs.

“You’re my kid,” he says to the empty gym. “That’s what matters.”

No one responds, but it’s better that way. John just shakes his head and gets up with a long, drawn out sigh.

…

Ward takes Buddy for a walk after that, quiet. He leads him through the entire base grounds, over hills and through the entire quad. Some people wave at him; he waves back, though he doesn’t recognize a single one.

He could go off base, he thinks, if he wants. He could just go. Maybe to the pier. Take Buddy with him and go for a drive.

He’s never done it before, but it sounds like an amazing idea.

Ward pauses and smiles a little, shaking his head. It’s never occurred to him before now that he could just _leave_ when he needs to.

“Buddy,” he says. “We’re going on a trip, okay?”

Buddy whines a little, and it makes Ward hesitate. Then he kneels and kisses his forehead.

“Don’t be scared, pup,” he promises. “It’ll be so much fun. We’ll go to the beach. The beach where I found you, okay?”

Buddy nuzzles him. Ward hugs him tight. “I’ll be fine. Promise.”

He takes Buddy back home and he packs a bag quickly. He has to have food, he’ll be out past his schedule. He’ll try to be back home for dinner, though. Family is dinner and conversation and he doesn’t want to miss any of it.

He sighs and leaves his room quietly, slipping down the hall and out of base. He doesn’t know what everyone’s up to today, but he’s just a little grateful they’re not around. Just so he can get what he needs to do done.

He unlocks his car and puts Buddy in the back with a pillow and a blanket over the seat. Buddy flops down on it with a whine as Ward gets in the driver’s side and peels out of the parking lot, driving slowly off-base until he’s finally on the roads leading outside and he beams.

“Okay,” he says. “I remember how to get there. Right? Of course.”

He nods and takes the nearest exit. He’ll find it. No worries.

…

Ward drives for a little while in silence down the highway, Buddy sleeping in the backseat. He put the radio on awhile back, but he keeps the volume low. The scenery that passes by him all looks exactly the same, and he can’t help but frown as he regards signs.

“I feel like we’ve already come this way,” he says. “Definitely, I think. What about you, Buddy?”

Buddy snores. Ward frowns. “Oh, no. Okay. Let’s…turn around. Let’s just turn around, okay?”

He pulls into a K-turn and goes back in the opposite direction. A few cars pass him; Ward checks the signs and cringes. Where is he? He’s far. That he knows, he has to be far. But it’s fine, he’ll find his way back soon. He just has to make another turn.

He does just that and ends up back where he started. Ward frowns.

Another turn…

He drives for another thirty minutes before he checks his gas light and his stomach plummets. He’s almost on empty.

He pulls over and locks the doors, taking the keys out of the ignition and climbing into the back with Buddy, holding him close.

“Bud?” he whimpers, his voice soft and panicked. “Oh, Buddy. I think I messed up. Oh god. John’s going to be pissed. I’m going to be in so much trouble. I don’t know where we are, Buddy. I’m scared, I’m…oh god…”

He buries his face in Buddy’s flank for a second to steady his breathing and get ahold of himself. Buddy noses him and wags his tail. Ward rubs his stomach and bites his lip, shaking his head.

“We’re in trouble,” he finally says with a sigh. “Oh, god. We’re going to die out here, Buddy.”

He takes the pack of food he’s brought with him and shakes his head, disgust bubbling in the back of his throat. “At least I know I definitely wasn’t cut out for SpecOps. Stupid failure idiot, _idiot…”_

Buddy whines and noses him. Ward bites down into a protein bar and swallows the square of flaxseed and honey whole, uncaring about the sudden painful lump that’s formed in his throat.

…

The first one to arrive for dinner that night aside from Melinda, who has been at the kitchen stove for the past hour, is Skye.

“Hi,” she says, bounding in. “I have a question.”

“Mm?” Melinda says, turning around to regard her. It’s hard to think of the little girl as any kind of inhuman; her eyes are shy and sweet when she watches her, like she’s in awe. Melinda waits for her to say something.

“Ward says you two do Tai Chi in the morning,” Skye says. “Can I come?”

“Do you want to wake up at five?” Melinda asks. She has to keep from smiling when Skye makes a face and gags.

“Can I go back to sleep after?” she asks.

“Well, we finish around seven and usually everyone’s awake by nine, so…if you think you can fall asleep and get any rest, sure,” Melinda says. Skye sighs dramatically and slumps on the couch.

“Cool, I guess,” she mumbles. “Sounds like fun. I guess Ward’s only saying that it is because he has a crush on you.”

Melinda sighs and shrugs, returning to dinner. Skye rolls over on the couch and watches her cook as another question occurs to her.

“Do you always cook?” she asks. Melinda shakes her head.

“No, it’s usually Phil,” she says. “He likes making dinner. It’s a family thing for him. And Phil’s always wanted to be a family man. Before absolutely anything else, that’s what he’s needed. Which is why he’s so excited for you to be here.”

“Oh,” Skye says with a little nod. “Okay. So what do you cook?”

“Oh, I mostly make tea…sometimes I do dinner. When Phil’s away, or busy. I enjoy cooking, it’s no trouble for me. Do you know how to cook?” she asks. “Did anyone teach you?”

“No, not really,” Skye says. “I can cook some stuff. Cup noodle. Instant kind of things. Easy. But I make good sandwiches.”

Melinda nods. “Fair enough. I was just curious. You’re awfully interested in what I’m cooking, after all.”

“Well, yeah, because you’re like…really good at it,” Skye says. “It’s just cool to watch, I guess. Do you want me to go? I’ll leave.”

Melinda shakes her head. “No. You’re fine.”

The rest of the team files in, person by person, and there’s a long, pleasant silence as Skye watches Melinda cook and prepare, humming quietly to herself in a language Skye almost recognizes, can almost respond in, but before it lifts off the tip of her tongue, everyone is in the rec room and the chatter has become a dull roar.

She sighs and gets up, sitting down at the table and looking around as the adults all converse, her gaze ticking off everyone as she passed over them, one by one.

It takes a few seconds, but it finally occurs to her. There’s only one person missing.

“Where’s Ward?”

Silence falls in a snap. John’s face pales.

The whole team looks around at one another.

“I thought he was with Trip,” Sharon says.

“I thought he was with Sharon,” Trip explains.

“I thought he was with John,” Skye says.

“I thought he was with Skye,” John says. “Shit. Holy shit. Oh my god. Where’s the kid. _Where is he?”_

“We’ll find him, relax, John—“

Before Nick can say anything, John’s bolted from the room. Skye sighs and crosses her arms, looking down.

“Sorry,” she mumbles to Melinda as everyone gets up. “I ruined your dinner.”

“No you didn’t,” Melinda promises her, quiet. “There’s no point in having dinner if all of us aren’t here. So let’s go find him, okay?”

“Okay,” Skye says, relief washing over her as she follows after Melinda.

…

Ward curls up in the back of the car as Buddy sits in his lap and wags his tail. Ward hugs him tight.

“I’m sorry, boy,” he says. “I messed up. And now everyone’s going to be mad at me. You can leave if you want, okay? You’re a dog. You can survive in the woods, right? And you’ll be safe. You’ll have friends and people who love you. Well…maybe not people.”

He sniffles. “But I’m probably going to go back to jail for running away, so you can go, okay? You can go be safe in the woods.”

Buddy yaps at him and bumps his muzzle against Ward’s face, as if he’s offended Ward even considered the idea. Ward sniffles and nuzzles him. “Okay. Sorry. But if I go to jail, you have to go live in the woods, okay? That way nobody takes you to the pound. Or puts you to sleep.”

Panic wells up in his chest. His head is swimming and he’s scared and the thought of someone anaesthetizing Buddy makes his stomach gurgle with bile.

“Please don’t die, Buddy,” he whimpers.

Buddy whines softly as Ward starts to cry, big wet sobs that make his chest shake. He sniffles and whimpers and tries desperately to get a grip on himself as Buddy gently licks him, Ward’s stomach gurgling and his hands shaking as he clings tight to his puppy.

“I’m going to be in so much trouble,” he whimpers as soon as his tears die down, and the resurgence of panic in his chest makes him wail in pain. Buddy nuzzles him and paws at his chest as he shakes his head.

“I just wanted to go to the beach,” he says to himself, rubbing at his eyes. “It doesn’t matter now, though. It’s my fault and I’m going to have bothered everyone because I just had to run away and I’m going to be in trouble and it’s all my fault, that’s all. It’s okay.”

He hugs his knees to his chest and Buddy squirms restlessly in between the gap. “It’s okay. Don’t worry, Buddy. Do you want to go for a walk?”

Buddy whines. Ward nods and kisses his muzzle, picking him up and lifting him out of the car. The two of them walk up and down the road in silence.

“We could both live in the woods, maybe,” Ward says. “No one would ever find us, so I’d never have to go back to jail for running away. And I could keep an eye on you, so you would be okay. How does that sound?”

Buddy whuffs softly and licks his hand. Ward frowns. “You’re right. We should wait. But it might be fun, maybe. We’ll go live out with the deer. I could live with deer. I’d be so gentle with them.”

Buddy wags his tail as Ward walks them back to the car. He sits in the front seat and looks up at the sky.

“Oh,” he murmurs. “Back in the car, Buddy, okay? It’s going to rain soon.”

Buddy whines softly and climbs back in as Ward shuts the doors and opens his pack up. He’s almost out of food, but he has just enough to keep on schedule. He might just…might just have to ration.

He eats a little more. His stomach still feels empty and hollow, and it’s making him feel sick. His hands are shaking and he pinches the skin on his stomach until Buddy sees him and paws at his hands with a firm yip. Ward jerks them away and crosses them over his chest.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, the panic in his chest gripping tighter, like a vise. Buddy crawls on top of his lap and licks his face as Ward repeats, “Sorry, sorry, sorry…”

…

“You’re absolutely sure you have no idea where he is,” Nick says. “You’ve combed the whole base?”

“The whole base,” John says, his face white. “Fuck. Oh my god. Nick, what if he was _kidnapped_ —“

“Then we’re going to find him again, relax,” Nick says, his voice firm. “Relax, John. You’re not helping the situation by completely losing your shit. Okay?”

“He’s going to _die,_ ” John says. Victoria grimaces.

“This is the exact shit he means,” she says. “Okay. Nicky, I couldn’t find his car in the garage, either. I don’t think he was kidnapped.”

“Do you think he left?” Nick says. “Why would he leave?”

“Why would he run away?” John demands. “This is his home, we love him, we’re his _family—“_

“Holy shit, you fucking drama queen,” Victoria sighs. “Look. I don’t think he did it on purpose. He’s almost eighteen, he wanted to get out, clear his head, go for a drive, but since he didn’t go with anyone else and it’s his first time off base, he got lost. That’s my theory, anyway.”

“Sounds fair,” Nick says. “Did anyone get into a fight with him today over anything? Something to make him leave?”

John pauses, shakes his head, and swallows. His face is drained entirely of color as he rubs his temples.

“He was…he was nervous about SpecOps,” John says. “Thought he wouldn’t be able to cut it. Scared him. A lot, actually. And I didn’t know what to tell him. I told him he was going to be just fine, but if he thought he needed to clear his head…”

“Then he just left to do that,” Nick finishes. “Jesus. Thank god. I was worried we might have a real problem on our hands.”

“We still do!” John snaps. “My kid is out there in the middle of god only knows where possibly _dead_ for all we know, and we’re not out there in full force trying to find him—“

“First off,” Nick says. “ _Our_ kid. Second off, his car has a tracker, right?”

“Yeah, I put it in just in case we ever needed to find it. Or him,” Victoria says. “I could get Skye to trace it in ten minutes, max.”

“Okay,” Nick says. “Then do just that. And someone get the van, we’re going out to get him. _All_ of us, John, before you pull a Lone Ranger on this situation.”

John makes a face at him as Victoria leaves the meeting room to go find Skye. Nick just stares right back, unperturbed.

…

“Ward took the car,” Victoria explains when she finds Melinda and Skye. “I think he just wanted to clear his head and got lost. Poor kid.”

“God, you’re right,” Melinda murmurs. “He really doesn’t go off base. No wonder he’s so lost.”

“Oh, no,” Skye says. “Is he going to be okay?”

“We’re going to find him,” Melinda says. “If he got lost, we’ll just find him. That’s all.”

“I need Skye to trace the tracker in his car,” Victoria says. “Can you?”

“Duh,” she says. “Where’s your computer?”

John paces around the room as Victoria and Melinda watch Skye work. She types like it’s second nature, her head cocked just slightly as she fiddles with the system.

“He’s about thirty minutes’ drive away,” she says. “Do you know where this is?”

John pauses and looks at the map. His heart aches.

“Oh, Jesus,” he says. “Puppy just wanted to go to the beach.”

“Sure,” Skye says. “With the boardwalk?”

“How do you know about that?” John asks. Skye smiles.

“He told me about it,” she says. “It made him happy. He said it was one of the best things in the world.”

“God,” John murmurs. “That kid. Come on, let’s go, I know where he is.”

The three of them follow after him as John climbs into the driver’s seat of the van. Nick sits next to him and gives him an appraising look.

“You have to be gentle with him,” he says as John tears out of the parking lot in a squeal of tires. “He’s a kid. He’s scared. And he’s going to think we’re all angry. You know how he gets.”

“He’s my _son_ , he’s out there in _this—“_ John says as the rain pelts on the windshield. “I just—I want him to be safe, that’s all—“

“First off, slow down, because if we all die before we get to him, that’s counterproductive,” Nick says. “To say the least.”

John’s hands are shaking on the controls. Nick sighs. “Second, I know. I know you do, but if you completely lose it in front of him, he’s not going to know it’s because you care, he’s going to think he’s in trouble and all it will do is upset him. Don’t make this any worse on him, John.”

“Fuck,” John mutters, but he knows Nick’s right. He just sighs and makes a left.

…

Ward cries at the top of his lungs as he clings to Buddy. He’s not scared of thunder, he’s really not, but the rain is pelting his car and he can hear lightning crackle in the sky as wind howls through the trees, and that’s even worse. He sobs and retches and wails, his shoulders shaking as he clings to Buddy.

Buddy presses kisses along his cheeks and snuggles as close as he possibly can, his whole body wriggling with the need to somehow occupy Ward’s entire physical space. Ward sniffles and kisses him, rubbing his side and trying to calm down.

“M’sorry,” he says. “So scared, m’so scared, we can’t run away yet, okay? Wait until the storm dies down and then we’re going to go live with the deer or something—oh god, I don’t know…”

Buddy yips and gives him another kiss. Ward hugs him tight. “I’m so scared. I don’t want to go to jail again, I got in so much trouble, I don’t want to, I want to go home, I want to go home…”

All he can think of when he thinks of home is a cold house, big and hollow, like a labyrinth. His brother waited inside, the Minotaur that lurked behind his every step, waiting for Ward to slip up just once and lose his way, lose Rose, lose Dana…

Of course he tried to burn it down, of _course_. How else was anyone going to find their way out? There was no way to solve the problem. Just destroy it. He had to get rid of the labyrinth somehow.

He presses kisses into Buddy’s muzzle. Not home, though. No. He burnt it down and it was dead and gone now. Home was somewhere else and he had to think, he had to focus…

Home was the back of the car, being driven to base with Victoria on the phone and John’s hand in his hair and loud music. Home was the rec room with its beat up old couches and big kitchen and long table with mismatched chairs, one for everyone.

Home was the television and his warm bed and Buddy and John and Trip and Sharon and the team and Skye and _everyone_ , everyone, and he was home too, he had made his home with his own two hands and it was his now, inside him and around him.

Ward starts to cry again as Buddy licks his face. “I want to go home, Buddy. I want to go home so much.”

Thunder makes the car tremble and Ward shudders, clinging tight to Buddy. Buddy yips in protest and puts his paws on the door.

“Buddy? What’s the matter?” Ward asks. Buddy yips louder, his tail wagging. Ward can’t see through the pelting rain and he frowns, squinting at the window.

For a second, he mistakes the car’s headlights for lightning, and he flinches as they draw closer.

Then he hears the squeal of tires and the doors opening, and Buddy’s barking, his whole lower half wagging along with his tail as Ward makes himself as scarce as he can possibly manage, his chest tight with panic.

“ _Grant,”_ John says, wrenching open the door and reaching for him. Ward berates himself for not locking it as he puts his arms over his face, curling in on himself protectively.

“I don’t want to go to jail,” he says with a little whimper. “I know I ran away, I’m sorry, I know, I didn’t mean to, I’m in trouble—“

“No, oh my god, no no no,” John says, picking him up and pulling him out of the car, pressing kisses on both his cheeks as he holds onto him, Buddy bounding around their feet as Ward shakes in John’s arms. “No, kiddo, no. You’re going home, you hear me? We’re going home. Come on, in the car, take the keys and lock this up, Vic, we’re all going home.”

Ward wants to believe him. It’s too good to be true. No one’s mad at him, and all the hugs and kisses he’s getting as soon as John bundles him into the van, blankets and a mug of cocoa and delighted murmurs of relief, all of them are real and he’s wanted and needed and loved. But all of them are going to stop as soon as they turn the corner, and Ward’s going to be back in the labyrinth, lost.

He plays pretend for an hour as Melinda rubs his shoulders and murmurs to him in Chinese and Jasper keeps refilling his mug—Ward wants to protest, it’s too unhealthy, but it’s the last time he’s going to have Jasper’s cooking, so he’s silent.

He doesn’t look up for awhile until Melinda sighs in relief. “God. I hope we can reheat what’s in the kitchen.”

“I don’t see why not,” John says. “It’s still good, we were only gone a few hours. Late dinner, that’s all.”

Ward lifts his head up and his face is bathed in the light of home. He stares.

“I’m…not going to jail?” he asks, wrinkling his nose.

“You just wanted to clear your head,” Melinda says. “ _Bao bei._ God, what would we blame you for?”

“I made everyone late for dinner,” Ward says, tears filling his eyes. “And I ran away and I didn’t come home…”

He starts to cry again, hate simmering in his chest. He looks like a big stupid baby, and now he’s never going to get into SpecOps.

“Sssh,” Melinda soothes him, kissing his forehead. “Oh, no. Sometimes it happens, Ward. It wouldn’t be dinner without the whole family present. Isn’t that right?”

Ward chokes back tears and nods. Melinda rubs his back. “Ssh. That’s right. There you go. You got lost, that’s all. You didn’t run away. You got lost and we found you. Isn’t that right?”

Ward is quiet for a little bit, holding her hands. She’s warm and she’s holding onto him and she loves him. Ward’s chest settles, just a little.

“Yeah,” he agrees, finally. “I’m home.”

She kisses his forehead again. “Good. There you go. Let’s go finish up with making dinner, okay?”

Ward follows her out of the car, Buddy trotting beside him as he opens the door. He steps over the threshold, and it feels like something’s settled back into place.

He finds his way to the rec room without any help and finally settles in, back at home.

…

John sits down next to Ward on the couch, sipping a cup of coffee. Ward is picking idly at breakfast, sleep still weighing down his limbs, making him move slowly as he sighs.

“Do you want to talk about what happened, kiddo?” John says. Ward frowns.

“Do I really need to?” he says. “I mean…”

“If you don’t want to, you don’t have to,” John says. “But your birthday’s in three weeks. And I don’t…I don’t want you going off to SpecOps if you’re not ready.”

“John,” Ward sighs. “I’m fine, honest.”

“I don’t know if I can trust that, kiddo,” John says. “Not because I think you’re lying to me, but because I think you don’t understand how worried I am. This is a big deal, Ward. What you’re doing is a big deal. It’s dangerous. And I don’t want you to go in if you’re not prepared.”

Ward looks away in the way John’s familiar with; the kind of thousand-yard stare he gets when he’s trying not to cry.

“Is…is this because I got lost?” Ward says. “I’m sorry, honest. I know it’s not good to get lost, and I’m…sure it doesn’t reflect well on me, but…but I did try, I just…”

His shoulders slump and John can see tears gathering at the rim of his eyes. “You’re right. I’m not ready for SpecOps. I got lost and I cried and I got scared and I was stupid. I hate me, John. I don’t want to go to SpecOps. I want to die.”

“Baby boy,” John says, his heart aching. “Jesus. Come here.”

Ward is shaking when he holds him tight, and John can already feel the front of his shirt soaked in tears, but he couldn’t care less. The kid needs him, so he’s here.

He holds him steady as Ward continues to sob, rubbing his back. “Oh, kiddo. Jesus. There you go, you’re okay, you’re okay. Ward, it’s okay.”

“No it’s not,” he sobbed. “No it’s not, I couldn’t even find my way back home after I got lost, stupid…”

“You don’t go off base much,” John says. “You got scared. You panicked, and you didn’t want to leave Buddy or the car behind. That’s not a failure. You’re still a kid, okay? You’re still a kid. I promise. Oh, hell. Come here.”

He holds him as tight as he can manage. “Look…”

Ward clings back against John’s grip, as tight as he can. John sighs. “SpecOps isn’t going to drop you out in the desert and tell you to survive. Not at first. You’re going for beginner stuff, Ward. It’s okay. You’re okay. Honestly? It’s going to feel a shitload like school at first. Guarantee you, you’re not going to see much difference between your tutors and SpecOps for a good two years. You’re going to be just fine.”

He rubs his back. “You have to take qualifying tests anyway. I think you’d do fine without them, but I know it’ll help you to have them. It’s okay. You’re okay. If you don’t think you did well enough, we’ll wait. But I swear to god, no one thinks less of you for getting lost. You’re fine, Ward. We were all just scared because…”

He sighs. “Shit. I don’t think we’d know what to do without you, kiddo. You’re our boy. Losing you scared the shit out of us, but that’s not your fault, okay? Not at all. We love you. We just wanted to make sure you were safe.”

He tsks and ruffles his hair. “You’re fine. You’re okay. We were the ones who panicked, not you. You did the best you could in your situation, and I’m proud of you. Okay?”

Ward nods wordlessly and clings to him like he’s drowning. John just holds onto him. He’s not letting go until Ward does.

He’s fallen asleep, John realizes after a few minutes. He smiles and sighs, shaking his head and settling Ward on the couch, bundling him up in a blanket before taking his breakfast and leaving it on the table for him to find when he wakes up.

…

The day finally comes.

John knows it’s coming, knows every scarce second is one more that he gets to hold onto the idea of Ward as a kid, as his _son_ , as someone too young and soft and gentle for _any of this_ , and he knows that all of this is his fault.

He opens his mouth to scream in frustration and all that comes out is a desperate little whine.

Melinda puts her hand on his shoulder and rubs it comfortingly. “John. He’s going to be done in fifteen minutes. You have to be ready for him.”

“I know,” John says, exhaling with a shaky shudder. “Jesus. Mel, this is my fault. If I hadn’t—“

“Stop it,” she says. “If you hadn’t picked him up out of prison he would have died there. He would have been lost to all of us, and we would have never had him for three precious years. So don’t start that shit with me or I’ll knock your teeth down your throat.”

John closes his eyes and shakes his head. “Right. Thanks Mel.”

“You’re welcome, jackass,” she says. “Jesus. You’re acting like he’s going to die.”

“You’re the one who said we only got three years with him,” John snaps.

“We’ll always have him,” Melinda says patiently. “And in time, he’s going to fight with us as an equal. _I_ , for one, am excited by that prospect. I can’t wait to see what he’ll do. Because he’ll do it well. He’s special, John. One of the best any of us have ever seen. So if you’re not eager for him to succeed, I don’t know what to tell you.”

“I am,” John retorts. “But fuck, if I’m not allowed to be worried about _my son_ , then I don’t fucking know what to tell you, Mel, because this is a big deal, and he’ll be in _danger—“_

“He won’t be in danger. He won’t be afraid. Not anymore,” Melinda says. “He’ll _be_ the danger. And that’s what he wants. To be strong. Finally. To protect.”

She sweeps him up and down. “You were the one who promised that. You promised him the principles, the motivations, the absolute _foundation_ of this organization; you were the one who told him he could be a shield. That he would protect. So don’t you _dare_ act ashamed that he’s achieved the ideal. Not in front of him. You are _not a father_ here. You are an _agent._ Act like it.”

John is silent. Melinda crosses her arms over her chest and watches the doors, waiting.

“I brought a few drinks,” Victoria says, opening the door and coming into the waiting room with them. “Figured we’d want to crack open some champagne or some shit. Phil and Jasper are waiting with Nick and Fee with the birthday cake and presents.”

She pauses. “I’m not too late?”

“No, you should have another ten minutes before…”

Melinda trails off as the door opens and Ward bounds in. He’s sweat-soaked, his face is flushed and ruddy, and he’s got a cut on his cheek that’s still dripping, but he’s _beaming,_ his entire body quivering with delight, sparkling like a live wire as he stands in front of them.

“Hiii,” he says, more of an exhale than a greeting. “I finished!”

The trio look at each other. Ward cocks his head. “Hello? Did I do something wrong?”

“Kid,” John says. “You weren’t supposed to finish for another ten minutes.”

“Oh, uh…should I go back in, or…”

“No,” John says with a sigh. “Okay. Jesus. Let’s just go tell the instructor.”

Ward wilts. “I’m sorry. Did I screw up?”

John looks at him for a minute and watches his wide-eyed gaze. He’s so desperate for approval John can practically see him shaking.

“You did better than anyone could’ve,” John promises. “I’m so…I’m so proud. Agent Ward.”

Ward throws his arms around him and squeezes so tight his chest aches. John doesn’t mind. It’s the only thing keeping him together at the moment.

Melinda leaves the room to confer with the instructors; there’s a hushed, excited conversation beyond the doors in the examination room, before Melinda comes out with an inscrutable expression.

“They’re ecstatic about his results,” Melinda says. “They’re saying we should have him trained as a specialist from the start. We’ll have to confer with the channels, of course; Nick, the Council. But I think you’re going to do just fine, Ward.”

He’s practically shaking with pleasure at this point, his eyes wide and gleaming with delight. John does not speak. He clings to Ward tight, like holding onto him will keep him from going far away, someplace where he can’t make him come home for dinner anymore.

“This is amazing,” Ward whispers. “This is just so _awesome,_ John.”

He pauses and grins. “You know it’s because of you, right? If you and Tori hadn’t come and got me, then I’d be…I don’t know. Dead, maybe. But—but because of you, I can do it. Really, for so many people.”

“Do what, kiddo?” John says, and oh fuck, he can hear his voice shake, he hasn’t cried since god only knows when—

“Protect people,” Ward says. “I couldn’t be here without you. I couldn’t save anybody if you hadn’t saved me. So…so thank you. For everything, John. I owe you everything.”

John just holds him in silence. He looks at Melinda over Ward’s shoulder and her expression is impenetrable. He lowers his gaze.

“I’m the one who owes _you,_ kiddo,” John says. “I’m so proud.”

He lets Ward bound out gleefully with Victoria and Melinda, wordless. Victoria catches his eye and John shakes his head. He can see tears at the edge of her gaze, too.

He sits down once they’re gone, looks at his hands, and thinks of the boy whose hands he had clasped three years ago, pulled free from his prison and into a new home, a new life. He remembers their warmth and misses their weight.

John weeps openly in the waiting room until he’s absolutely sure he’s wrung every tear out of his body.

He stands up, goes to the bathroom, and mops at his eyes with cold water until the redness recedes and he looks normal in the mirror again.

He swallows, steels himself, smiles, and goes to wish his son a happy birthday.


End file.
